The Worth of A Friend
by InfinityStar
Summary: The involvement of a psychic in a case causes a rift between Goren and Eames. But what is her true gift? Can she heal the damage of a wounded soul and bring the partners to reconnect with one another?
1. A Missing Child

**A/N: Here's a new one to start off the New Year. Enjoy :-)**

* * *

_A faithful friend is a sturdy shelter;  
he who finds one finds a treasure.  
A faithful friend is beyond price,  
no sum cam balance his worth._

_--Sirach 6:14-15_

* * *

Cora Richards held her coffee cup in both hands as she stepped off the deck while her two-year-old charge Teddy ran in circles in the big yard, chasing the dog and giggling. Gordon, the big golden retriever who was Teddy's best friend, dropped to the ground and rolled onto his side. Teddy hugged him and Cora smiled. 

"Cora! Firsty. Wanna jooooos, peez!"

"All right, honey. I'll get you some juice."

She went into the house, walked across the kitchen and pulled the orange juice out of the refrigerator. Filling Teddy's sippy cup, she opened the refrigerator door to place the juice back on the shelf. A noise behind her caught her attention and she smiled, turning toward the little boy, and everything went black.

Out in the yard, Teddy continued to play with Gordon. As the day wore on, he got hungry and climbed up onto the deck to go into the house, but he couldn't get the door open. When he banged on the glass and called for his caretaker, there was no answer. So he crossed the yard, managed to get the gate open and wandered out of the yard. With a bark, Gordon ran after him.

* * *

Senator Todd Harriman sat in his recliner with his newspaper. It had been a long day of deliberation and he was tired and frustrated. The several votes they had taken over the course of the day had not gone the way he wanted. He'd enjoyed a good dinner, however, and he was beginning to unwind. He took a drink of the bourbon and coke from the glass on the end table, and his wife Sandra sat across the room from him with her daily crossword. 

When the phone rang, the senator smiled. His daughter called them every night so Teddy could tell them good night. He loved his little grandson dearly. Picking up the phone from its cradle he brought the receiver to his ear. "Hello."

After listening intently for several moments, the color drained from his face. "All right, honey. Calm down. Did you call the police?"

His wife looked up from her puzzle, alarmed. Harriman nodded slowly. "Vicky, is Chris home? Okay. I'll make a call myself and we'll be there in a half hour."

Hanging up the phone, he looked at his wife. "Something horrible has happened. Vicky just got home from work. Cora..." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Cora has been killed and Teddy is missing. I'm going to call the commissioner and get someone out there to help with this. Then I'm heading out there myself. Vicky is hysterical."

Sandra sat there for a long moment, shocked by the news he had just given her. Cora...the sweet woman who had helped Vicky with Teddy after he was born and stayed to care for him when she went back to work at the advertising agency...sweet, loving Cora, loved like a member of the family...

Sandra set her puzzle aside. "Should I call Steven when you're done?"

"Sandy, leave the boy at school."

"But Teddy is his nephew, Todd."

Harriman braced the receiver with his shoulder. "Let's find out what's going on first. Hello? Commissioner? This is Todd Harriman. I'm sorry to bother you at home but..."

* * *

Alex Eames had taken advantage of a light day to leave early and head to her sister's for dinner. When her phone rang in the middle of the meal, she sighed as she pulled it from her pocket. Her partner knew she was having dinner with her sister's family; it had to be a call-out. Sure enough, the captain's name appeared on her caller ID. With a heavy sigh, she flipped the phone open. "Eames." 

_Call your partner, Eames, and head out to Long Island. We have a situation out there and I want the two of you to handle it._

"What kind of situation?"

_Senator Todd Harriman's grandson is missing and his caretaker has been murdered. This is high profile, detective. Keep an eye on your partner._

"Don't worry about him," she answered, annoyed, as she wrote down the address he gave her.

_Keep me informed._

"Don't I always?" she replied sharply.

Terminating the call, she offered a contrite look to her sister and brother-in-law. "I have to go. Thanks for dinner."

Rising, she kissed her nephew and carried her plate into the kitchen. Her sister met her there. "Maybe you can come back out on Sunday? It's Aaron's birthday."

"I'll try, but no promises. I'll call you tomorrow."

One quick hug and she was gone.

* * *

Goren was laying on his couch, one foot flat on the floor, one on the couch. The television was on, but he wasn't watching it. An untouched drink was propped on his chest, the fingers of his right hand curled around the glass while his left hand was tucked beneath his head. He let his mind wander and he mused over how dissatisfied he was lately with everything. Ever since his mother died, he felt everything else in his life slowly spiraling out of control. Only one thing kept him grounded, and that, as always, was his partner. They had hit a few rocky patches lately, but he found that when he needed her most, she was always there. Everyone had bad days. His just seemed to stretch into weeks, and he was in the middle of one now. Tipping his head up, he brought the glass to his lips as the phone rang. 

Deciding to ignore it, he took a drink and let his head drop back. The ringing continued. After it stopped, his cell phone began to ring, buzzing on the counter as it vibrated. He let out a slow, weary breath and got up. _Eames cell_, the caller ID displayed.

_Fuck,_ he thought. "Goren."

_Is everything okay?_

"About as okay as it gets. What's wrong?"

_We have a call out._

"We're not on call."

_This is different. Senator Harriman's grandson is missing and the boy's caretaker was killed. Ross wants us on it._

Another weary sigh, this time in resignation. "Where?"

_Long Island. Do you want the address or do you want me to pick you up?_

He shook his head as though she could see him. "It's out of your way. Give me the address." He wrote it down and tore the page off. "I'll meet you out there."

_All right._

"Eames?"

_What is it, Bobby?_

He hesitated for a moment before saying, "Be careful."

A pause, then, _I will. You do the same._

He closed the phone and slid it into his pocket. In the bedroom, he grabbed his off duty weapon and slid the holster onto his belt, refastening it as he returned to the living room. Grabbing his badge, he added it to his belt, snatched the keys from the counter and headed toward the couch. For a moment, he studied the glass on the coffee table. Then he reached out, hit the off button on the remote and, grabbing his coat, left the apartment.

* * *

The scene was in chaos when he arrived. Dogs and their handlers were traversing the yard before heading out the gate and down the street. A uniformed man approached him. "Can I help you?" he asked, trying to sound official. 

Goren's eyes swept the yard as he moved his coat and slid his badge off his belt, showing it to the officer as he clipped it to the lapel of his coat. His dark gaze returned to the young officer, who did not appear to be more than twenty years old. The young man shifted uncomfortably as Goren spoke. "Goren. Major Case. My partner will be here soon. Have you found any leads?"

The officer shook his head. "Not yet, sir. We have four K-9s out trying to find the scent trail and a chopper with infared up in the air. It's only been twenty minutes since we got all that rolling. The vic's name is Cora Richards, 58 years old. She was the little boy's caretaker."

Goren turned his head when Eames' car pulled up, and he waited. Once she was at his side, he repeated what the young officer had told him and they entered the house. The CSU techs were already combing the scene. In the kitchen, Goren's eyes took in the surroundings quickly and he let his mind gather its first impression. Then he walked to the body as Eames went into the living room to talk with Vicky Yarborough, her husband and her parents, who had already arrived. He heard a voice that carried the tone of an experienced speaker. The senator. Let Eames handle him. It was much safer for him to be here, with the body, someone he couldn't piss off..

He saw no signs of a struggle. Whoever had done this must have taken her by surprise. Turning the head, he studied the blood that matted her gray hair and pooled, now tacky, around her head. Blunt force trauma. With a tender touch, he parted her hair to study the wound and he frowned deeply. He'd hit her more than once, and there was an odd crosshatching at the edges of the wound. His eyes scanned the surroundings, wondering if the assailant had brought his own weapon or if he'd grabbed something that was convenient, not intending to run into anyone at home. He continued to examine the body, then stood, walking around the kitchen to the far counter, then to the sink. Reaching into the sink with a gloved hand, he pulled out a meat tenderizing mallet, blood and hair caught in its teeth...the crosshatching... He motioned to a nearby CSU tech. The tech noted what he was holding and grabbed a large evidence bag from a nearby case. He held it open so Goren could lower the mallet into it. The detective continued to wander around the kitchen, noting the spilled orange juice on the floor by the body and the sippy cup on the ground beside it.

Eames came into the kitchen, holding her notebook in her left hand. She stepped up to his side and spoke softly. "You are not going to believe this. You need to come into the living room for a moment."

He hesitated. "I really should finish here."

"Did you find something?"

"Whoever did this was nice enough to set the murder weapon in the sink for us after he beat her with it."

"What did he use?"

"A meat mallet, something close at hand in the kitchen. He did not expect anyone to be home."

She said, "Usually Cora took Teddy for a walk after breakfast, but he had a cold, so his mother said just to let him play in the yard and not to go for a walk." She looked at the body of the woman on the floor. "There's something to be said for routine."

His eyes returned to the victim and he said, "This happened this morning. Did anyone talk to the neighbors?"

"I think the locals are doing that. Mom got home about an hour and a half ago. Found the body and no little boy, so she, in her own words, 'panicked' and called the police and then her father. Her husband got home while she was talking to the police. She is an executive at an advertising agency in the city; he works as a broker on Wall Street. The senator and his wife came right over after he called the commissioner and requested assistance for the local cops. The commissioner called the captain and he called us."

He shifted against the counter, eyes once more perusing the area, making certain he had not missed anything. "Done?" Eames asked.

"I guess so."

"Come in here with me, then. There's someone in here you've got to meet."

Unable to find another excuse to avoid it, he followed her into the living room. The senator and his wife flanked their daughter on the couch while a man he assumed was Teddy's father paced in front of the fireplace. Goren sympathized. That was what he would be doing while the preliminaries were taken care of before he could leave to help in the search for his child. He met the father's eyes briefly, and the man must have seen his understanding. He nodded, a gesture Goren returned.

There was another person in the room who drew his attention from the distraught family, a woman seated in an armchair, removed from the family unit. She was compelling, though not in any obvious way. She wore jeans and a loose cotton top, and her sandy hair, shot through by a streak of magenta, was pulled back in a ponytail. If she wore any makeup, it was impossible to tell. Four earrings traced the curve of one ear while two adorned the lobe of the other, and a single curved stud graced her eyebrow. She shifted in the armchair with the fluidity of a cat, drawing random gazes in her direction. Once their gazes touched her, they shifted away, only to be drawn back again after a few moments. But placing a finger on what drew them to her was impossible. Her appearance was not unusual, but there was a presence about her that drew attention, something ethereal that she seemed utterly oblivious to.

Eames walked over to her and addressed her in a tone Goren recognized and always dreaded to hear when it was directed toward him. "Miss Chambers, this is my partner, Detective Goren."

The woman rose smoothly and extended a hand toward him. "Marcy Chambers," she said by way of introduction.

Eames noticed the way her partner studied the woman as he accepted her hand, but his expression was guarded. Somewhere in the back of her head, an alarm went off, but she quickly silenced it. "Miss Chambers was contacted by Mrs. Yarborough about an hour ago and she came right over."

A puzzled look replaced the guarded look on his face and Marcy elaborated. "I moved to New York two years ago from Tulsa, where I was a consultant on missing child cases for seven years."

"A consultant? What kind of consultant?"

"I have a rare ability to read people, places, objects..."

Eames knew the exact moment that her partner understood what the woman was reluctant to say. Quietly, he said, "You're a psychic."

"I try to avoid using the term 'psychic' to describe what I do, to prevent people from shutting down under the force of preconceived notions, detective. But essentially, yes, I am. When I worked with Tulsa law enforcement, 132 of the cases I worked with them reunited the children with their parents. Our efforts were investigated by both Sixty Minutes and 20/20. I am not a fraud, and I want to help. I came right out when Mrs. Yarborough called me."

This was neither the time nor the place to question Marcy about a frantic mother's misplaced faith, so Eames simply said, "When you have a chance, we would like to speak with you in more private surroundings, Miss Chambers."

"I would be happy to, Detective Eames. But right now, I simply want to help these parents find their son."

"Of course you do," Goren said in a tone that carried no judgment. He handed her his card. "Call us if you need us. We are going to help in the search."

With a nod, Marcy placed his card in the back pocket of her jeans, and he left the house with his partner. He did not have to look at Eames to sense her anger. Once they were clear of the house, she snapped, "What the hell is the matter with you?"

He raised his eyebrows. "It's not our call, Eames. The family brought her in. The least we can do is cooperate."

"But a psychic? Give me a break."

He shrugged. "If it makes them feel better..."

"False hope, Bobby. It gives them false hope."

"Look at it this way, Eames. Whatever happens, as long as we cooperate with their efforts and do everything we can to find this boy, it can't come back to bite us in the ass. If we let her work with them, it keeps them busy while we do our job." He looked away and rubbed the back of his neck, stopping in mid-stride to turn to face her. "What harm can she do?"

She studied his face, and she got the impression he'd call in fairies and leprechauns if he thought they would help. "All right," she conceded, but only because he asked her to. She raised an index finger. "But the instant she says he's huddled in a cave, I'm done."

"That's fair."

She shook her head and began walking again. "A psychic..." she muttered.

The local police were still canvassing the neighbors, trying to find someone who had been home and might have seen something, but so far they'd had no success. So the detectives left them to their jobs and walked down the street to a trailer that had been moved into the neighborhood to serve as a base for the searchers. Goren held the door open for Eames, then followed her up the three steps into the trailer to see what they could do to help.

* * *

Goren and Eames spent the rest of the night helping the searchers, to no avail. They dragged themselves back to the squad room to inform the captain of their lack of progress, clean up and then head back to Long Island. Ross studied them as they came into his office. Eames was obviously exhausted, but the captain couldn't see much difference in Goren. That only fueled the captain's suspicion that the man regularly got little sleep. "Go home, you two. Get a few hours of sleep before you head back out there." 

Goren shook his head. "There's a missing boy out there. He's been gone almost twenty-four hours and there is no indication that whoever killed his caretaker abducted him. If that's the case, he wandered off and he's cold, scared and alone. If Eames wants to take time, that's fine. I'm heading back out there as soon as I shower and change."

"You, detective, are the one who needs the rest the most."

Goren waved him off and Ross knew there would be no forcing him. As long as there was any energy in his body, he was going to put it toward finding Teddy Yarborough. Ross had no doubt he would drive himself to the point of collapse. His eyes shifted toward Eames and he saw the same worry in her tired eyes. "Just...be careful."

It was the best he could come up with, but he gave Eames a meaningful glance that he knew she understood. She nodded and turned away from the desk, knowing Goren would be right behind her. They had pointedly avoided the topic of the psychic Vicky Yarborough had called. Eames still wondered what he thought, though. She had made her feelings clear, but as time passed, she realized that he had not let his own feelings on the matter be known.

She left the squad room for the locker room, where she showered and changed into clean clothes, bagging her dirty outfit and putting it in her car before she returned to the squad room. She was surprised to see Goren at his desk, in a clean suit, his hair damp. He was engrossed in something on his computer. "What are you up to?" she asked as she approached.

He shut the computer and stood. "Nothing. Are you ready to go?"

Frowning, she looked from him to the laptop and back, nodding her head at the computer. "Does that have to do with the case?"

"Indirectly. It can wait. Let's get going."

He seemed to have gotten his second wind and he wanted to take advantage of it. Finally, she nodded, turning to walk away.

He turned back to the laptop, opened it and powered it off. Then he joined her. The last thing he wanted was another argument with her. There had been enough tension between them lately and he did not want to contribute to more. She did not trust Marcy Chambers, but he did not have the same skeptical approach. He was wary, but willing to give the woman the benefit of the doubt, at least for now. He had not gotten far in his research, though, and he'd made a note to call the Tulsa police department and the Oklahoma State Police about her. He was curious now, and he wondered why she'd left Oklahoma.

The ride to Long Island was quiet. Eames was tired and Goren was thinking. Before they got to the neighborhood where the Yarboroughs lived, she glanced at him. "So what were you doing that indirectly has to do with the case?"

He paused. "Research," he answered.

"That psychic," she said, disapproval in her tone.

He nodded. "So far, what she's said has been true."

"That doesn't mean she has any business being part of this case."

"It seems we have no say in that."

"And if we did?" When he didn't answer, she glanced at him again. He had returned his attention out the window. "Are you going to sit there and tell me that you believe all that psychic mumbo-jumbo?"

"No, I'm not. But this woman has a solid track record with reputable law enforcement agencies, and right now we have nothing to go on. I don't see the harm if the family wants her help. We have nothing to do with it."

"And I don't want anything to do with it, do you understand that?"

"Yes, Eames. I get it."

She sighed softly. This woman had roused his interest and his curiosity, and that, she knew from experience, could spell disaster. She parked the car down the street from the Yarborough's home. "Just be careful, will you?" she said as she turned to look at him after turning off the vehicle. "I don't want another Nelda."

She got out of the car, leaving him. He sat there for a few moments, trying to understand how she meant that. With a heavy sigh of resignation, he got out of the SUV and joined her on the sidewalk, where she was waiting with her arms crossed, obviously annoyed. He decided his best bet was simply to remain quiet as they walked down the street to the command post.

Marcy was sitting on the steps of the trailer, waiting for them. She rose as they approached. "Hello, detectives."

"Hello," Eames answered, determined to be polite because Senator Harriman's daughter had called this woman, and the senator knew the chief. Since the chief already had it in for her partner, she decided it prudent not to make waves. "Have they made any progress?"

"Not yet." She hesitated before venturing, "Teddy is still alive."

Eames looked away and rolled her eyes but Goren looked at her with interest. "How do you know that?"

Marcy sighed, seeking the right way to explain what she knew. "Sometimes, I can see things in my dreams. Sometimes, I feel them when I'm in contact with a cherished item. And sometimes, if I look at a picture of someone, I can see their fate. I've never been wrong. His mother gave me his favorite stuffed animal, a raccoon, and when I was holding it, I got the sense that he's terrified, lost...but alive. And when I looked at his picture on the mantle, I didn't see him dead. What I did see was a field near a stand of red maple trees. That's where he is."

When she stepped up into the command post, Goren looked at his partner. "It's not a cave," he pointed out.

She tried to hide a smile of amusement and smacked his arm. "Shut up," she growled as she moved past him into the trailer.

He sighed as he hid a smile and followed her.


	2. Rising Tensions

**A/N: Sorry for not updating this sooner. My muse has been stuck on Chasm.**

* * *

Marcy sat down at a desk at the back of the trailer as Goren and Eames followed her up the steps into the make-shift command center. Two other officers sat at another desk on the side of the open room. Eames was glad she wasn't claustrophobic. It was not very spacious.

Goren leaned over the shoulder of one of the officers and studied a map in front of the man. "What areas have been covered?" he asked.

Before the officer could reply, Marcy said, "Gordon."

The four cops looked at her. "Gordon?" Eames asked.

"Gordon is with Teddy. He'll hear the searchers if they get close enough."

"Who is Gordon?" Eames asked impatiently.

"Teddy's dog," Marcy answered, not reacting to Eames' tone.

Eames frowned and her tone took on a sharper edge. "The dog? I thought Mr. And Mrs. Yarborough said the dog ran off while the gate was open."

"That is only an assumption based on the dog's past behavior. My impression of Teddy's fears and comforts is that the dog is with him."

Eames shook her head and headed out of the trailer. Hesitating only long enough to exchange a few words with one of the officers, Goren looked at Marcy, then hurried off after his partner. He caught up to her halfway down the block.

"Eames..."

"Don't 'Eames' me, Goren. If you want to play games with the psychic, be my guest. I..."

A voice from behind them cut her off. "Is there a problem, detectives?"

Goren's tension shot through the roof as Eames turned to talk to their captain. "No, sir. There's nothing wrong. We were just discussing something Miss Chambers told us."

Ross looked at Goren then back to Eames. "I realize this is unconventional, but the senator himself called me. His daughter has the utmost confidence in Miss Chambers. I suggest the two of you find a way to work with her." He glanced at Goren. "However uncomfortable you may be with it."

Goren frowned, annoyed that the captain automatically assumed he would be the one having problems working with a psychic. Moving his hands away from his sides, he said, "We have a child to find," and he walked away from his partner and the captain.

Eames looked at Ross, then trotted after Goren. "Bobby, wait."

He pretended not to hear her and kept walking, but his pace slowed and she caught up to him. "I'll straighten it out with him."

"Forget it, Eames. I'm used to it."

"Hey..."

"I said forget it. Are you going to go with me?"

"Into the woods? Of course I am. I don't want you turning up missing, too." He raised an eyebrow at her and she smiled. "Let's go."

* * *

Goren pushed open the door to his apartment, frustrated and exhausted. They hadn't found Teddy and Eames was mad at him again. He didn't disbelieve the psychic, and he wanted to give her a real chance, but Eames wanted nothing to do with her despite the senator's insistence that she be involved. He was caught in the middle and he resented it. His resentment made him irritable, and she had misinterpreted his mood, getting him into more trouble with her. He gave up and told her he was heading home for a few hours of sleep before resuming the search. On top of that, Ross was getting antsy because the senator was on his back about finding the person who had killed Cora. Goren wanted to focus on finding the boy first, and he'd gotten into it with Ross over that, too. He was uptight and aggravated.

He slid off his jacket and dropped it over the back of the recliner in the living room on his way to the kitchen, untying his tie as he went. Grabbing a beer from the refrigerator, he returned to the living room, laying his tie on the coffee table as he sat on the couch. Flipping on the television, he was annoyed when the news came on and the lead story was the missing boy, a further reminder of their failure to locate him. There was speculation that he had wandered off into Reeves Bay, not far from the family home in Flanders. There were crews searching the bay, but he didn't think Teddy had gone off in that direction. He was beginning to wonder if the person who had killed Cora actually had taken the boy. The tracking dogs kept losing the scent not far from the house, and they weren't picking it up again. The handlers kept making excuses for the dogs, but he knew enough about tracking to know that without recent rains, they were losing the scent because it was not there. He was also unable to find a stand of red maples anywhere in the area, which had contributed to his partner's irritation. She was not afraid to let him know exactly what she thought about that ridiculous claim and the idea that he would consider giving it any credence. He just wasn't doing anything right.

Kicking off his shoes and unbuttoning his shirt, he laid back on the couch with the beer and watched the report. _Damn._ Where was that little boy?

* * *

_In Flanders fields the poppies blow  
__Between the crosses row on row  
__That mark our place; and in the sky  
__The larks, still bravely singing, fly  
__Scarce heard amid the guns below_

_We are the Dead. Short days ago  
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow  
Loved and were loved, and now we lie  
In Flanders fields._

_Take up our quarrel with the foe:  
To you from failing hands we throw  
The torch; be yours to hold it high.  
If ye break faith with us who die  
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow  
In Flanders fields._

The words of the poem floated through his mind as he walked through a mist, calling the boy's name. He sensed someone at his side, certain it was his partner. Continuing deeper into the mist, he heard a dog bark. Running in the direction of the sound, he broke through the fog, into a clearing that bordered a stand of red maples. Curled into a ball on the ground was Teddy's body. They were too late. The voice that came from beside him, full of accusation, was not his partner's. It belonged to Marcy Chambers. "I told you. If you had listened to me from the beginning, Teddy would not be dead..."

He sat up suddenly, breathing hard and sweating. He felt trapped. His partner, the voice of reason, wanted to deal with this case in a pragmatic way, as she always did. On the other hand, there was Marcy, a voice of experience, steering him in a different direction toward the same end: finding the boy. He was unable to find a balance between the two and he felt way off kilter. The phone rang, drawing him from his disturbed thoughts. _Hell..._

He found it in his jacket pocket and answered the call. "Goren."

_I am so sorry to wake you, detective. This is Marcy Chambers._

"What can I do for you, Miss Chambers?"

_Do you trust me, Detective Goren?_

He hesitated before answering, "I...I don't know."

_I appreciate your honesty. I am going to tell you something rather outlandish, but you do want to find Teddy, don't you?_

"Of course. We all want to find him."

_The others will never buy this. Teddy is not on Long Island. He is near water, and the red maples I told you about. But...does the name Wanakena mean anything to you?_

"Wanakena? Uh, yes...it's a small town in the Adirondacks, up near the Tri-Lakes region. It's at the south end of Cranberry Lake."

He knew the name well. Lewis' parents had a cabin on the west side of Cranberry Lake and they had taken him there with them several times, when his mother was hospitalized and couldn't report him missing when she forgot where he was. His father certainly never gave a damn and his grandparents were dead by then.

Marcy's voice jarred him from the memories, which were among the few he had that were good. _The name came to me while I was sleeping with Teddy's stuffed raccoon. Do with it what you will, Detective. _

He couldn't help the suspicion that welled up from inside him. Had he inadvertently mentioned Cranberry Lake in Marcy's presence? Of course not...it had been years since he'd even thought about the summer cabin or the lake. "How did he get upstate?"

When she answered him, there was caution in her voice. _I am not willing to open myself up for ridicule and hostility, from anyone. I'll just leave you with that information and be done with it._

Had she heard something in his tone to make her defensive? "No...please. Tell me what else you have." She softly huffed, not answering. Was he allowing his partner's skepticism to close his mind? "I'm sorry...please...go on."

She paused for another minute, then said, _It's someone he and Gordon know. A teenager or very young adult...in a blue car. I also see blood, and a silver mallet, but I don't think they apply to Teddy. That's all I have._

"How willing would you be to accompany us, if I can convince my partner to follow this lead?"

_Don't be a fool, Detective Goren. Your partner will never buy it. But if you want my company, I will go with you. I am sorry I bothered you... _She hesitated. _But I'm not sorry I woke you._

"Why not?"

_It's never regrettable to be woken from a nightmare. Good night._

He closed the phone. Something in the way he answered the phone must have given him away. How else would she have known he'd been having a nightmare? He turned his thoughts to what she'd told him. A teenager...one Teddy and the dog knew...a neighbor...

He got up, showered quickly and dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt. Sliding his holster onto his belt and clipping his badge to it, he grabbed his jacket and went downstairs to his car. He thought about calling Eames, but how was he going to explain himself, especially at three in the morning. Her first inclination would be to tell him to get a few more hours of sleep, but that was not going to happen. His best bet was to use his insomnia to contribute to the search; at least she would understand that much. Maybe if he laid the groundwork first, it would be easier to convince her to follow a new line of investigation. Starting the car, he pulled away from the curb and headed for Long Island.

* * *

People were still out searching for Teddy when Goren returned to the small Flanders neighborhood. He climbed into the command center. "Where is the information on the neighbors?" he asked after greeting the officers staffing the trailer.

He was handed a folder and he sat in an empty chair near the desk at the far end of the trailer. Flipping slowly through the information and the interview notes, he searched for any teen neighbors, finding a half dozen. Five of the kids either did not own vehicles or their parents had cars that were the wrong color. That left one. Matthew Torello, seventeen, owner of a sky blue Toyota. "Uh, who interviewed the Torello boy?"

One of the two officers at the opposite end of the trailer turned toward him. "No one. He didn't come home from school yesterday. His mother said he's probably at a friend's."

He frowned, wishing the notes in the folder were more clear. "What did the school say?"

"About what?"

"Was the kid in school?"

"I have no idea. I don't think anyone looked into it."

That annoyed him, and he had to remind himself that no one was looking for a suspect in Teddy's disappearance. Of course, forgetting that there was a murder to be investigated was inexcusable to his mind. "Where is the Torello residence?"

"Two doors down from the Yarboroughs, same side of the street." He scratched his head, wondering what interest hotshot city cop could have in a harmless local boy. "Matt's a good kid, detective. He plays football with my son."

"I'll keep that in mind."

As he stepped from the trailer, he was surprised to see that the sun was coming up. He wandered down the street toward the Torello residence. As he approached the well-kept house, he noticed a man sitting on the front porch in a rocking chair with a cup of coffee. He leaned on the fence and looked across the yard at the man. "Mr. Torello?"

"Yeah. What can I do for ya?"

"Detective Goren...I work with the Major Case Squad."

"You here lookin' for Teddy?"

"Yes, sir. I was wondering if I might talk to your son, Matt."

"You could, if he was home."

"Do you know where he is?"

"If I hadda guess, I'd say he's at Craig's house. They been inseparable since about the second grade." He jerked a thumb over his shoulder, indicating a direction. "Three blocks over, yellow house with some kinda climbing vine on the porch. Number 1233."

"Thank you."

As he walked away from the house, he broke into a cold sweat. The man reminded him of his own father and he had to swallow his anger. If he was a caring father, he'd know where the hell his kid was. He had no trouble finding the residence, and he was surprised to see a woman in the garden. These people got an early start on Saturday mornings in the spring. "Excuse me," he called.

The woman turned from her flowers. "Yes?"

"Your son, Craig...?"

He couldn't miss the tension in her as she studied him with suspicion. "What about him?"

"Is he home?"

"No. He left about an hour ago for work."

"So Matt Torello isn't here?"

"No, he's not. May I ask what you want with my son?"

He pulled his badge from his belt and showed it to her. "I just wanted to ask him about Matt. When was the last time you saw him?"

"A few days ago, I think."

"But not in the last forty-eight hours?"

"No. It was Monday or Tuesday."

"Thank you."

He shoved his hands into his pockets as he headed back for the street the Yarboroughs lived on. When his phone rang, he pulled it from his pocket and answered by rote. "Goren."

_Good morning,_ Eames said. _Do you want me to pick you up?_

"Uh, no, thanks. I'll meet you in Flanders."

She was quiet for a moment. _You're already there, aren't you?_

"Uh, yes."

_Couldn't sleep again?_

"No."

_Any leads?_

"Maybe."

She paused. _All right. I'll see you soon._

Returning the phone to his pocket, he kept walking, lost in thought as he tried to find a way to convince Eames that the missing teen could be related to their missing boy. It was going to be a very hard sell and they were running out of time.

* * *

**A/N2: _In Flanders Fields _is a poem by Canadian physician Lt. Col. John McCrae, written during WWI (May 3, 1915 to be exact) in Belgium. **


	3. A New Lead to Follow

Eames was furious. What the hell was he doing back out on Long Island? Her anger only increased when she surmised that the psychic probably had something to do with it. Psychic...what a crock of shit. She didn't get how a man with Bobby's intelligence could put any stock in psychics, especially given his background in psychology. He knew how they worked, reading subtle clues from people and building on them with broad statements that led them to zero in on a target. "I'm sensing a female relative from the other side..." There was a fifty-fifty chance of getting that right, and everyone had dead female relatives!

She sighed. How easy was it to get a read on a frantic mother with dozens of pictures of her baby adorning her house? What she couldn't get a handle on was the woman's agenda. What could she possibly have to gain in this? Could Goren be her target? In some ways, the man was an easy mark for a pretty woman. She gave that some thought. How much did Marcy Chambers' understated beauty and charisma have to do with the snow job Goren seemed to be falling for? As much as she wanted to believe he was above that, the dark shadows of Nelda Carlson and Nicole Wallace loomed in her mind. For all his brilliance, Goren was still a man and subject to the same failings as any.

As she merged onto the Belt Parkway, her mind wandered. When Goren's mind wandered, it often led to trouble of some sort for one of them, but her thoughts didn't usually do that. Today, however, was an exception. Today, they took her nine years into the past, back to her days in vice, not long before she lost Joe. She had come across Tracie, a seventeen-year-old runaway who got caught up with the wrong group of people and ended up addicted to heroin and trolling for johns as a way to pay for her habit. All the cash that didn't go to her pimp went into her veins. Eames had struggled to get the girl away from that life, into rehab and on her way to a better life. She had almost succeeded.

Enter Paul Starr. An ex-junkie, Starr had discovered he had a "gift" for reading people and places, and predicting where they would go in life. He had played that poor girl like a finely tuned piano, preying on her every insecurity and stroking her ego, and more Eames always suspected, until she caved. Back on the streets, Tracie had lasted three weeks. She turned up in a fleabag motel room, with three times the lethal dose of heroin in her body, the needle still in her arm. Paul Starr had taken his "psychic" abilities and vanished into thin air.

She hated that Vicky Yarborough had called in a damn psychic and that her father backed her and demanded that the woman be allowed to work on the case. She hated that Ross had ordered them to take the woman seriously. But more than anything, she hated that her partner seemed to be buying her act. She could not get Paul Starr out of her mind, and she was terrified that the same fate Tracie had met lay in store for Goren if he continued to chase after Chambers like he was.

No, that wasn't quite fair. She had no proof he was chasing after her. Could it be that Chambers was pursuing him? But why? She had offered a verifiable story that Goren had followed up on, confirming the validity of her claims. He had to be aware of the tricks psychics used—he employed some of those same tactics in the interrogation room. Prey on their weaknesses...and Chambers had hit on one of Goren's biggest weaknesses: children.

She knew that many police departments worked with psychics, but she wondered how many of them were simply exceptionally gifted investigators who were bored with conventionalism. She would always put her stock in good, solid police work, whatever anyone called it, and that was what Goren had always done: good, solid police work. It no longer mattered to her that the rest of the department thought her partner was a freak. She knew better. She knew the man, not the myth. She would take one of his hunches over a dozen "proven" psychics any day of the week. So what was he doing now? Was the time factor making him more receptive to the use of clairvoyance? She couldn't accept that he believed in ESP of any kind.

As she pulled into an open space near the command post, she saw him pacing on the sidewalk, hand rubbing the back of his neck. Something had him agitated and she immediately looked around for Chambers. As she approached, she called his name. When he didn't answer, she knew he was lost somewhere in his head and she stepped into the path of his pacing. He almost ran her over.

"Eames...sorry...when did you get here?"

"Just now, and be warned, I didn't stop for coffee."

"Why not?"

Because she didn't trust him? No. She didn't trust Chambers. It wasn't an issue of trust with him. The biggest part of it was concern for his vulnerability, and no one knew how vulnerable he really was better than she did. She was waiting for Chambers to bring up her partner's recent loss of his schizophrenic mother and the signals she was getting from the "other side" from the woman, apologizing for all the grief she had caused her son. It didn't take a rocket scientist to know that a disease like that would have taken its toll on a caring son.

She did not voice her concerns, however, which would have set him even more on edge. "We're running out of time. If you have a new lead, we need to move on it."

He rubbed the back of his neck again and began pacing again, seeming even more unsettled that she was willing to chase his lead. "Would you stop that," she demanded irritably. "Quit pacing and tell me what you found out."

"I was following up on the neighbor interviews. One of the neighborhood teens has been missing since Teddy vanished."

"And no one mentioned this because...?"

He shrugged, still oddly unsettled. "I suppose his parents might have, if they gave a damn. And everyone believes Teddy wandered off, so no one is looking for an abductor. Cora's murder seems to have slipped to the back burner while we search for the boy."

"And you thought to bring it back to the front burner."

"I think they're related."

"What made you come back out here in the middle of the night to look into this?"

"Since I couldn't sleep, I figured I would do something useful."

Her eyes narrowed. He was being evasive. "What told you to look at the neighbors again?"

He wouldn't look at her. "Something someone said."

"Your psychic friend," she accused.

He felt his patience slipping. "Tell me why I'm wrong to utilize everything at our disposal to find this boy?"

"I don't trust her."

"I gathered that. Eames, I haven't found anything but praise for her work in Oklahoma. Her statistics are impressive."

"We do the same kind of work without the use of crystal balls."

He tossed his hands up in defeat. "Whatever. I'm going to talk to Matt's mother."

She went along with him, too annoyed with him to feel bad for irritating him. Before they reached the house, someone called to them. Turning in the direction of the Yarborough's house, neither of them was pleased to see Ross strolling down the sidewalk toward them. As was his habit, the captain addressed Eames. "Any leads?"

"We're chasing one down now. A teen neighbor went missing the same time Teddy did. We think it might be related."

"How? Didn't the little boy wander off?"

Goren answered, "That's been the assumption. It might not be correct."

Ross gave it some thought. "I suppose there are enough searchers out there. Go ahead and follow it up. I'll tag along with you."

Goren made no comment as he turned and continued toward the Torello residence with Eames at his side. Whatever their differences, she would never criticize him in front of Ross. She had more respect for him than that, and she knew how Ross was with him. Any hint Eames might offer even suggesting instability would be pounced on by the captain..

Ross hung back as Eames rang the doorbell. Angie Torello answered the door, staring at the three people on her porch with suspicion. "Mrs. Torello," Eames took the lead. "I am Detective Eames. This is my partner, Detective Goren and our captain, Danny Ross. We are investigating the disappearance of Teddy Yarborough and the murder of his caretaker. We believe your son Matt was home when Mrs. Richards was attacked and Teddy disappeared, and we would like to talk to him, to see if he saw anything."

Angie stepped out onto the porch and looked up and down the street. "He's not home. I told the officers yesterday he was probably at his friend's house, but with his car gone...no. He wouldn't be at Craig's."

"Do you know where he might have gone?"

"Not for certain, no."

"He wouldn't tell you? Leave a note or something?"

"Of course not. He's 17. What 17-year-old does that?"

Goren raised an eyebrow. "When I was 17, my mother always knew where I was."

Angie studied the big man. "We prefer not to mollycoddle our son, detective."

He frowned and steered the interview in another direction. "Is there any possibility he could have gone upstate?"

"Maybe. My husband has a hunting cabin in the Adirondacks. He and Matt have been going up there hunting and fishing since Matt was five."

Eames picked up the ball. "Would he have skipped school to go fishing?"

Angie laughed and repeated, "He's 17, detective. Name a 17-year-old boy, your partner excluded, who wouldn't skip school to go fishing."

Ignoring the jibe, but giving the woman a dirty look, Eames said, "We're going to need the location of your husband's cabin, Mrs. Torello."

"Sorry, detective. I have never been there. I have no idea where it is."

Eames was losing patience, and Goren let her continue. "Mrs. Torello, you are interfering with a murder investigation. We need to know where this cabin is."

Angie glared at her. "I'll get my husband. You can discuss it with him."

She disappeared into the house and they heard her shout "Curtis! Get down here!"

Eames looked up at her partner, knowing he wasn't likely to say anything with Ross standing there. Goren met her eyes, but remained silent. An unspoken understanding passed between the two of them. They were going on a trip upstate.

The door was slammed open by an angry man in boxers and a sleeveless undershirt who stepped out onto the porch. He glared at Eames."My wife tells me you're harassing her about our boy."

He advanced toward Eames, but Goren stepped between them. Torello looked up at the towering cop, a solid eight inches taller than he was, but he didn't back down. "If my kid is being accused of something I want to know."

Goren answered him. "No accusations have been made. We want to talk to him, that's all. There is a possibility he could have seen something relevant to the case we are investigating."

Torello remained silent, glaring at Goren. There was no missing the odor of liquor that wafted off him, and Goren was again reminded of his own father. One hand closed into a fist, which he tightened to calm himself. "We need the location of your cabin, Mr. Torello. Your other option is getting arrested for obstruction of an active investigation. It's your choice."

The smaller man gave it some thought before finally answering, "Wait here."

He went back into the house, returning with a folded piece of paper, which he thrust at Goren. "Get off my property."

Goren opened the paper and scanned the directions that had been hastily written on it. He nodded. "Thank you, Mr. Torello. You have the right to be present when we question your son."

"He can handle himself fine. Just don't shoot up my cabin."

Goren tensed, but Eames closed her hand on his arm and his shoulders relaxed a little bit. "Thank you," he growled, backing away from the man.

Eames tugged gently on his arm and they followed Ross off the porch, through the yard and out the gate. Goren made certain he was between Eames and the house. As they walked down the street, Ross said, "Well done, detective."

Goren nodded, still trying to settle himself back from an unfocused fury. It didn't help his tension levels any when Marcy Chambers approached them from the Yarborough residence. But she smiled at them and that helped ease his tension a little more. "Good morning, detectives, captain." Her eyes shifted to Goren. "Were you able to use the information I gave you this morning?"

"Yes, thank you."

"Good. Please, let me know what comes of it."

Ross spoke up. "Don't go far, Miss Chambers."

"I'll just be in the trailer, captain."

Ross nodded, waiting for her to continue down the street. Then he and Eames both looked at Goren and the captain said, "Fill me in, detective."

Goren sighed. "Miss Chambers called me this morning with a premonition. She thinks Teddy is upstate, near a town called Wanakena near the Tri-Lakes area of the northern Adirondacks."

"That's pretty specific."

"Not really. It's a large area, encompassing Saranac Lake, Lake Placid and Tupper Lake. Wanakena is on the southwest end of Cranberry Lake, which is west of Tupper Lake. When I was a kid I went there a few times with a friend's family, so I am familiar with the area. It's a lot of area to cover, but at least we have a starting point." He raised the paper in his hand. "It's something, anyway."

"Do you think it's worth the trip to talk to this kid?"

"Yes, I do."

Ross looked at Eames, who looked annoyed. "Detective Eames, what do you think?"

"I think we can be spared from the search here. Matt Torello's disappearance is too coincidental and I think it merits investigating."

Ross mulled over the options in his mind. Slowly he nodded his head. "Go get Miss Chambers, Goren."

Eames looked surprised, and Goren hesitated for a moment before he walked off toward the trailer. Eames turned to Ross, annoyed. "What are you thinking, captain?"

"Miss Chambers is going to go with us upstate. If we need her to help narrow down a search area, it will be a lot more convenient to have her along than to wait for someone to get her up there."

Swallowing her irritation, Eames pressed, "And is there a reason you are coming along?"

"To protect your partner."

"What? Who do you think he needs protecting from, me or Miss Chambers?"

Ross smiled. "Neither. But if the chief blows a gasket on this one, I want the blame to fall on me, not on your partner. It will be easier to do that if I am fully involved in this escapade."

She studied the captain for a moment, then looked down the block toward her partner as he approached the command trailer. She shook her head and turned on her heel, walking off toward the SUV parked halfway down the block.

Ross watched her walk away, and he wondered if he had misjudged Goren. Perhaps he was not the one having a problem working with the psychic. But one thing he was not worried about was the ability of his two detectives to work together, and with the psychic, to find the missing boy, if he was indeed at the Torello's upstate cabin. He followed after Eames and got into the back seat behind the driver. Eames remained silent.

Goren opened the door to the trailer and poked his head in. "Miss Chambers?"

She looked up from a map. "Yes, detective."

"Uh, we are expanding the search and we would like your help."

"Of course." She set the map aside and exited the trailer. Once he had closed the door, she looked up at him as they walked toward the black Explorer. "Are we going to Wanakena?"

"Yes."

"Your partner is coming, too?"

"Of course. Is that a problem?"

"Not for me, but she doesn't seem to like me."

"It's not that. She just isn't one to embrace unorthodox methods of investigation. But don't worry about her. I'll handle her."

"I have no doubt of that."

He gave her a questioning look, wondering what she meant, but she did not elaborate. He pulled open the back door of the SUV for her and waited for her to climb in. Then he slid into the passenger seat, surprised to see Ross in the seat beside Marcy. He looked at Eames as she pulled away from the curb, but she was focusing on the road, her face tense and closed off. He sighed. It was going to be a very long trip.


	4. Closing In

By the time Eames stopped for gas, she was way overdue for coffee and more than just a little irritable. She'd done her best to ignore the small talk the others made and limit her interaction to spare them the brunt of her temper. As she readied the gas pump, the others got out of the car, but she paid no attention to them. Marcy and Ross crossed the parking lot toward the travel plaza's main building as she shoved the nozzle into the gas tank and squeezed the lever. She sensed him looming behind her but she was still surprised when his hand closed over hers; he always made it a point to avoid her when she was irritated. She closed her eyes as his voice whispered past her ear. "Go get your coffee, Eames. I'll do this."

She hesitated for a moment before relinquishing the handle to him. Stepping away, she felt a sudden loss of something intangible, which she did not understand and chose not to dwell on. As she crossed the parking lot, she glanced over her shoulder. He was watching the pump meter as the gas flowed into the tank. She had to admit, say what they would about the man's little quirks and oddities, he treated her well and he had made the effort to learn how to read her.

She headed directly for the Starbuck's, reflecting on the wisdom of a six hour car ride on a hunch. If this turned out to be nothing, Goren was not going to hear the end of it. Granted they had a little more to go on than Marcy Chambers' ESP, but she needed a little more than what they had to feel good about traipsing halfway across the state on a lead that generated from Long Island. Collecting the bag with her breakfast pastry in it and the two cups of coffee, she got a hamburger and onion rings—no wonder the guy got heartburn; Heaven forbid he eat a salad—and she returned to the car. He was just finishing up with the fuel as she handed him the food and coffee. He looked surprised, and she didn't quite blame him. Meeting her eyes for a moment as he took his lunch, he said, "Thank you, Eames."

She smiled briefly and slid back behind the wheel. Leaning into the car on the passenger side, he said, "This isn't a whim, you know. Marcy offered her impression, but the gut saying Teddy is in the mountains is mine." He set the bag on his seat and his coffee in the cup holder. "I'll be right back. I need to wash up."

She nodded as she took a bite of the cherry danish, using her coffee to wash it down, along with the surge of irritation that rose when he referred to the psychic using her first name. Ross and Marcy returned while he was gone. "Isn't Goren back yet?" the captain asked.

"He fueled the car. He'll be back in a minute."

She started the engine when he returned to the vehicle. The brief whiff of cigarette smoke she caught from him told her that he was far more unsettled than he appeared, and she wondered who was causing it, or was it the combination of the three of them? She knew Ross' presence had him almost as uptight as her irritation, but she had no idea what he thought or felt about the psychic. As soon as he was in his seat, she pulled away from the pump and merged back onto the Thruway.

* * *

The blue Toyota was parked about ten yards from the front of the cabin. Ross and Goren approached the car with caution but it was empty. As they walked toward the cabin, where Eames and Marcy crouched by the porch, both Goren and Eames drew their weapons. Mounting the steps to the porch, the two detectives took their places on either side of the door. They needed to take extra caution since neither of them was vested. 

Goren tried the door. It was unlocked. Raising his eyes toward his partner, he caught her nod and pushed the door open, following the motion into the cabin. One cursory scan told him the main room was empty and he slipped into the back room. "Clear!"

As he returned to the main room holstering his gun, Ross and Marcy came into the cabin. Goren looked at his partner. "There is a car seat in the back of the car."

"I guess he didn't want to risk getting pulled over."

Eames picked up a sippy cup from the table and looked into a coffee mug, then she went to the sink. "Half a cup of juice and a little coffee, breakfast dishes..."

Goren scanned the main room then went to the wood stove, holding his hand a few inches over its surface. "Still warm. They were here this morning." He pointed out the lack of electrical light fixtures. "It's a hunting cabin. No electricity."

He looked at Eames, who met his eyes with a look of apology, relieved to see reassurance on his face. Enough of the evidence indicated that Matt could have taken Teddy, and she felt she should have given him more of the benefit of the doubt than simply coming along because Ross agreed it was a good idea. She resented the psychic but it never occurred to her that the woman might be legitimate.

Goren crossed the room toward the door, gently squeezing her arm when he passed her, and walked out onto the porch. His eyes scanned the surrounding woods. "We need to try to find Teddy."

"Maybe we should call in the locals," Ross ventured.

"We know they're here," Goren began. "It will take hours for the locals to organize a search. We can start and if nothing turns up, then we can ask for help."

Marcy nodded. "I don't think he intends to harm Teddy."

Eames looked skeptical. "Look at the man who raised him."

Goren frowned. "The father is not always an indicator of the son," he said quietly.

Eames looked at him again, understanding. "That's true," she answered, reassuring him.

Marcy added, "I'm not fully certain Teddy is even with Matt at the moment. They may have been separated."

Goren's eyes once more scanned the woods. "We should head out in different directions. We can cover more ground." He pulled out his cell phone and looked at it, frowning. "No signal."

Eames verified with hers. "Great."

"Let's just be careful," Ross said as he stepped from the porch, followed by Marcy and the two detectives. "We'll meet back here at sundown, and if we don't find Teddy, then we'll go talk to the locals."

Goren and Eames nodded agreement and started off toward the southwest end of the cabin clearing. Eames had not missed the look Goren cast toward Marcy and she felt her gut tighten, though she couldn't explain why. She had no business telling him who he could or couldn't like, although it always struck some kind of chord in her when he showed any degree of kindness or sympathy toward a person she disliked. Chasing the image of Nelda Carlson from her mind, she tried to dispel her annoyance as well.

Marcy stopped suddenly and looked off toward the woods in the direction Goren and Eames had started. "Detective Goren," she said quietly, waiting until he turned to look at her. "Watch out for bears."

He arched an eyebrow. "Bears?"

"It's spring and they tend to be grouchy."

"Okay...I'll watch for bears."

He turned back toward the forest, looking at his partner, who rolled her eyes. He gave her a half smile and walked toward the west as she headed into the forest to the south.

Ross looked at Marcy as they headed toward the opposite end of the cabin's clearing and repeated Goren's question. "Bears?"

"Call it a hunch."

He looked over his shoulder, then back at Marcy. "How good are your hunches?"

"Very accurate."

Ross scanned the trees. "Will you be all right in the forest alone?"

She smiled. "I lived in Tulsa, but I was raised in Idaho. I grew up in the woods, captain. I'll be fine."

She walked away from him into the north woods. Ross smiled as he headed to the east. In spite of Eames' reluctance to trust her, he found himself liking Marcy. Whether her premonitions turned out to be true or not, it was due to her suggestion they were here at all, and it seemed that the little boy they had been looking for was indeed somewhere in these woods. Goren seemed to like the woman as well, although he remained a degree or so removed from her probably to spare himself some grief from his partner. With a final glance toward the cabin, he pressed on into the forest.

* * *

Goren looked at his watch. Almost five. They'd been searching for just over two hours, but they still had another two hours until sunset. His eyes scanned the brush, looking for any signs of disruption by anything smaller than an adult human. Teddy would not leave much of a trail; however, if Gordon was with him, like Marcy said, the dog would leave behind fur on the brush. It was spring and he would be shedding his winter undercoat. He remembered seeing some clumps of tan hair on the carpet of the Yarborough's living room. 

Eames seemed to have come to terms with the possibility that Marcy was right about Teddy being there and not on Long Island. His partner could be so stubborn sometimes. He was not at all surprised by her reluctance to accept what Marcy claimed to be able to do, but to him, it seemed more personal than that. However, he knew of no way to bring it up to her without risking a potentially explosive...debate. He hated being on the outs with her and he had spent too much time there recently.

Concentrating intently on the dense undergrowth at the edges of the narrow path he was following, he forgot Marcy's caution and paid little attention to the forest around him.

* * *

By now, Eames was convinced that Marcy's premonition about Teddy being there was right, much as she hated to admit it. And she allowed herself to understand that, for her partner, it wasn't about the psychic. Marcy was not an issue for him like she was for her. He had no agenda for proving Marcy right or wrong. For him, it was all about finding the boy and that was the only reason she hadn't raised more of a fuss with him. He tended to be open-minded but he was not a fool. 

But there was another, deeper reason for her dislike of the psychic and that had everything to do with Goren. She recognized the same unfocused anxiety she felt every time they dealt with Nicole Wallace as well as an irritation similar to that she felt when they'd had to deal with Nelda Carlson. If she allowed herself to be honest, she would have to admit that her negativity toward Marcy stemmed from jealousy. He had the right to pursue any relationship he wanted, and it was clear to her that he really liked Marcy. Once the case was over, she felt certain, he was going to explore a relationship with the psychic, and there was nothing she could do about it, other than not like it. But that wouldn't matter to him. He never sought her approval for the women he dated. She was going to have to get used to the fact that the woman was going to be around for a while. She just hoped it would not turn into a disaster for her sensitive partner.

* * *

Ross' sharp eyes darted from one side of the path to the other and he listened for the sounds of snapping branches and rustling bushes. He found himself cursing the clear blue skies. If it had rained, there would be a clearer path to follow from the cabin and they would not have had to split up. He spotted a cluster of poison ivy to the right and watched a snake disappear into the leaf litter beneath the underbrush. He shuddered. He hated snakes. 

He was not worried about Goren and Eames finding their way around the forest. Eames had once told him that her parents used to take the family camping and hiking when they were kids. And Goren had come to this area of the state as a kid so the captain had no doubt he learned how to navigate in the forest. The only place Ross knew him to get lost in was his own mind.

But he was concerned about Marcy, in spite of her reassurance. They were there on his authority and that made Marcy his responsibility. Besides, he liked the woman. It was clear to him that Goren did as well, but he wasn't certain why Eames seemed so set against her. Many good solid officers like Eames found the notion of psychics difficult to swallow, and he understood her suspicions, but her resentment seemed to go deeper than that. He would have to have a talk with her. She was not out of line, but he was curious. It wasn't often he did not understand her, so there had to be a reason for how she felt. Briefly, he wondered if it had anything to do with Goren, dismissing the notion as soon as it appeared. Goren and Eames were close, but he got the impression they steered clear of each other's personal lives. He wondered, though, if that was a good thing or not. It was disturbing to him when he leaned toward the answer that said no.

* * *

Marcy stopped and rubbed her temples. The headache she'd developed on the drive was beginning to fade. Sensitive to the emotions of others, she had been unable to read the three cops because of all the tension that filled the vehicle. She sensed a potent undercurrent of resentment binding the captain and his detectives. There was something more, though, something that existed solely between Goren and Eames, contributing very powerfully to the tension between them. It was strong enough to overwhelm her, resulting in the headache she now suffered. It was rare for her to be stricken by the power of positive emotion, but that was exactly what had happened. Whatever it was, it was magnified by Goren's intensity to the point of consuming both of them. As she searched for Teddy, sending out emotional signals like a bat's sonar, she tried to think of a way she could help them reconcile it, before it was too late. She wondered if either of them even knew it existed or if they had dealt with it and kept it under wraps for so long it had simply become a part of them. Something had happened recently to disrupt their balance with one another, but of one thing she was very certain: if they did not come to terms with whatever it was that existed between them, it was going to destroy them.

* * *

Goren heard something in the brush off to the right. It was too big to be a toddler, but he was curious. A fraction of a second before the bushes parted, he recalled Marcy's warning. _Watch out for bears._ It was hard to say who was more surprised, the man or the bear. They faced off for a moment, each uncertain. Then the bear growled and reared up onto its hind legs, swinging a powerful paw at Goren, who stepped back away from the lethal blow. As he pushed backwards into the brush on the other side of the path, the ground beneath his foot disintegrated and crumbled, disrupting his balance and sending him tumbling down a steep incline. When he hit the bottom, he felt a blinding pain shoot through his right arm and his head struck a rock. Just before everything went dark, he thought he heard a dog barking. 


	5. Helping Hands

The sun was going down when Eames returned to the cabin, exhausted and empty-handed. She kept vacillating between wanting to go back to Long Island and being willing to continue chasing nebulous leads around the Adirondack woods. Relying on the psychic's emotional leads was like trying to catch the wind. Expecting her partner to be at the cabin, pacing nervously as he waited for her to return, she was surprised to find the porch empty.

When the cabin door opened, Ross and Marcy stepped out onto the porch. She looked around, and Ross shook his head. "He's not back yet."

"Any sign of Teddy?"

"Not yet," he answered. "Or Matt, either."

"Well," She motioned toward the Toyota. "We know Matt is here. We are assuming Teddy is with him or he wouldn't have a car seat in his car."

As Ross nodded his agreement and began to discuss their options with Eames, Marcy sat down and looked toward the western edge of the clearing, remaining silent. She had discussed her impressions at length with Ross over the past twenty minutes, since she had returned to the cabin a few minutes after he did. Knowing that Eames did not take her seriously, she opted to remain quiet and watch the forest for any sign of Goren's return. Ross would tell his detective anything she needed to know. Teddy, she felt, was safe, but she could not explain why. She only knew that the toddler's fear had faded substantially..

Ross felt it was prudent to move the Explorer further from the cabin, where it would not be readily visible. He was unwilling to tip off Matt that they were there and risk any harm to Teddy if the teen were to panic. Eames moved the SUV further down the drive and into the cover of the forest. When she returned, she sat on the porch near Marcy, but focused her attention toward the forest. Goren did not return.

* * *

Goren groaned and slowly opened his eyes. A soft whimper caught his attention and he turned his head toward the sound, finding a pair of soft brown eyes watching him from a furry face. The dog licked his face. He tried to move, but something against his side weighted down his jacket. Lifting his head off the ground, he saw a small boy curled into his side, with his jacket pulled as tight around his little body as he could get it. He moved his right arm, and pain shot up into his shoulder. Groaning, he dropped his head back to the ground.

The little boy moved, freeing his jacket. When he rolled onto his back, the child crawled up onto his chest so he could look into the big man's face. "Hung'y," he said.

"Okay, Teddy...we'll get you something to eat."

The dog nuzzled Teddy's shoulder, licking his ear, and the toddler hugged him. Looking at Goren, he patted his dog.

"Go'dy."

"Gordy?"

He nodded. "Go'dy hung'y, too."

"We'll feed Gordy, too."

Teddy reached out and touched a bruised abrasion under Goren's right eye. "Owie."

Goren raised his hand to the injury. "Yeah, I guess so. Do you have any owies?"

Teddy shook his head. "No."

"Good. Do you know where Matt is?"

"No. Bad Matt," he said with a pouting frown."Want Momma."

"We'll take you home to momma, buddy."

Carefully, he eased himself to a sitting position, keeping his arm as still as he could. The trees around him began to swirl and dip. Closing his eyes, he swallowed a wave of nausea and bent his right leg up to rest his forehead on his knee. Moving his other leg brought more pain and he opened one eye to look at his knee. His jeans were torn and bloody. Gently, he ran his hand over the joint. It was hot and swollen. _Great_, he thought, looking up the embankment he had fallen down. He looked at the dog. "Timmy fell in the well, Lassie. Go get help."

Gordy cocked his head and wagged his tail, eliciting a soft laugh from the big man, who ran his uninjured hand over the dog's head. "I thought as much."

Beside him, Teddy shivered and tapped his arm. Goren groaned at the pain that flared in his arm at the child's touch. His eyes shifted to the toddler, who crawled into his lap. "Co'd."

Slipping his jacket off his left shoulder and arm, Goren carefully slid it down off his right arm and wrapped it around Teddy's shoulders. Teddy snuggled into it and rested against Goren with a sigh. "Tan-oo."

"You're welcome." He looked up the incline again. "All right, Eames. It's up to you. Convince Ross I'm in trouble and come find me."

With his knee injured the way it was, he wasn't going to get back to the cabin without help. On top of that, his arm and head were throbbing, and he was still battling nausea and vertigo. _Watch out for bears..._ He wasn't going to disregard a warning from Marcy again, that was for certain.

Gordy laid down against his right hip and rested his head in Teddy's lap. The little boy stroked his dog's head and Goren smiled. Then he looked up the incline again. He couldn't see the ridge, so he couldn't tell if it sloped downward at any point. There was no way he was going to be able to make it up that steep of a slope, even with Ross to help him. The sun was almost down and it was getting dark. The nights were cool, but not unbearably so. Even without his jacket, he would be fine through the night if they didn't find him.

Raising his hand to his head, he found a large, tender lump above his right ear where he'd hit his head, and his hand came away bloody. He looked up through the trees again. "Come on, Alex," he whispered. "Don't let me down."

* * *

It was dark, and Eames was watching the forest for any sign of her partner. Ross came out of the cabin. "Anything?" 

"No. I think we should go out and find him."

"Does your partner have a propensity for getting lost?"

"Only in his head, captain."

Ross sighed, looking over his shoulder as Marcy came out of the cabin. She looked up at the sky. "It's going to rain tonight."

Eames made up her mind. She wasn't going to wait any longer. "If you're going to come with me, captain, then let's go. I am going to find my partner."

Ross watched her walk in the direction of the parked SUV, returning with a pair of Mag lights. She handed one to him and turned on the other. Pointing the powerful light toward the area in the forest where she had last seen Goren, she headed in that direction. Ross admired her determination. Glancing briefly up at the overcast sky, he motioned to Marcy and they followed Eames into the forest.

* * *

Goren was laying on his left side, with Teddy wrapped in his jacket and curled into him, using his left arm as a pillow. His right arm was resting on the boy, and as long as Teddy didn't move, the pain in it remained at a dull throb. Gordon was curled against Teddy, and the little boy was comfortable and warm, even if his stomach was grumbling. Goren felt badly about that; he wished he had something to feed him. 

He was in pain and his head was still spinning, his stomach still uncertain. His thoughts wandered, straying from Eames to Marcy and back, and he reflexively tightened his arm around Teddy. He lost track of the time after the sun set, and he stopped fighting his body once Teddy went to sleep. He began to drift toward unconsciousness...

Gordon suddenly barked, bringing Goren back to consciousness. The darkness of the night was complete, the overcast skies not allowing even the moon's light to penetrate to earth. If there was a threat out there, he would never see it. The dog jumped to his feet and bounded up the incline. Goren rested his head back on the ground. "Please," he whispered. "Please...Alex..."

He drifted out again, and he did not hear her call his name.

* * *

"Did you hear something?" Eames asked, turning toward Ross and Marcy. 

"I thought I heard a dog," Ross answered.

"I heard it, too," Marcy agreed.

Eames shined her light down the path and off to each side. She called her partner's name again. When the underbrush off to the left of the path began to rustle, she and Ross instinctively drew their weapons. They were all surprised when a big golden retriever bounded out onto the path with a bark, wagging his tail. Eames studied the dog in the flashlight's beam. He didn't seem to be threatening them. "What is Teddy's dog's name?"

"Gordon," Marcy answered.

At the sound of his name, Gordy wagged his tail and looked at her. Eames was torn...Teddy or Goren? But she knew there was no choice to be made. "Gordon? Where's Teddy?"

With a quick bark, Gordon ran to the underbrush at edge of the trail, looking back at the three people and waiting until he was certain they would follow. He disappeared into the brush and they went after him. "Whoa!" Eames yelled, stopping at the edge of the steep incline. "Watch out! The ground slopes down steeply from here. Be careful."

Cautiously, Eames made her way down the slope with Ross and Marcy following her. At the bottom of the slope, she shined the light around and caught her breath in a soft gasp. "Bobby..."

She hurried to her partner's side, surprised to see the little boy curled against him, wrapped in his jacket. Dropping to her knees beside them, she touched Goren's face. Slowly, his eyes opened and he looked at her in the reflected light of the flashlight beam. "Eames," he whispered.

Her fingers gently touched his cheek as she examined the abrasion above and below his eye. "Look at you," she softly chastised.

He offered her a small smile and whispered, "Ouch."

She returned the smile and looked up into the dark trees that grew on the incline. "You fell all that way?"

He rolled onto his back, keeping Teddy close. "Not intentionally. The, uh, the bear had other ideas, though."

"Bear?" She looked at Marcy with a dark frown until he drew her attention back by closing his hand over her arm. He nodded at the little one snuggled into him. "Um, look who found me."

"He found you?"

"When I came to, he was laying here with me, trying to get into my jacket to keep warm."

Ross squatted beside him opposite Eames. "Hello, detective."

"Captain."

Ross looked at Teddy. "Good job."

Gently, he lifted the boy and handed him to Marcy. Teddy snuggled into her arms as Goren watched with a soft smile. She returned his smile and said, "I warned you about the bear."

"Yes, you did. Thanks. It was a useful warning...if I had paid more attention."

"How badly are you injured, detective?" Ross asked.

"Bad enough that I couldn't make it back without help, especially with Teddy."

Ross didn't know whether to be amused or annoyed, but he was certainly worried. "Where are you injured?"

Eames helped him to sit up, and he once again rested his head on his right knee, swallowing his nausea. She settled her hand against the back of his neck. After a moment, he spoke, his voice quiet. "Left knee, right arm...and my head."

Shining the light on his head, Eames gently parted his bloody hair to examine his injury. "We need to get you back to the cabin, and then to a hospital."

He closed his eyes at her gentle but too brief touch. "We, um, we have to take Teddy home first. He needs to be with his parents. It won't hurt me to wait a few hours. I'm feeling better than I was."

Ross looked up at the sky as the first raindrops began to fall. Of course the rain would start now. "Great. Can you walk, Goren?"

"I haven't tried, but I think so."

Ross got to his feet. "We'll help you. Let's get you and this little guy out of the weather and back to the city."

Eames and Ross helped Goren to his feet. Gingerly, he tried putting weight on his injured knee and it held. He waved off Ross' help. "I...can make it."

"Are you sure? Don't be proud, detective. Let me help you if you need it."

"I can do it."

Ross pointed with the flashlight. "The cabin is in that direction...and up..."

He shined the light up the incline toward the path they had left behind. Goren shook his head. "Uh, there's no way I'm going to make it up that, even with help."

'Then we'll find something you can make. We'll head this way until we're able to cut back that way."

Ross took the lead. Eames stepped up to Goren's left side and drew his arm around her shoulder. He started to pull back. "Eames..."

"Shut up, Goren, and let me help you."

He opened his mouth to say something but she gave his belt a gentle yank. She meant business. He closed his fingers around her shoulder and tried not to rest his weight on her. Marcy fell in step beside him on the other side, with Teddy sleeping on her shoulder. He looked at her, nodding his head toward the little boy. "You were right."

She shook her head. "That's not what matters, detective. What matters is that we found him."

"That's only half the job. We still have a murder to solve. How many of those have you helped out on?"

"A few." She smiled. "Are you asking for my help, Detective Goren?"

"Eames is the senior partner," he answered. "It's up to her."

Marcy gently rubbed the toddler's back. "Then I will have to decline," she said softly. "I do not want to be the cause of any more problems between you and your partner."

Annoyed, Eames replied, "Whatever happens between my partner and me is our issue, Miss Chambers. If you feel inclined to talk to him about the case and it's all right with the captain, I won't stop you."

Goren grunted when his knee buckled. "Slow down...please..." he muttered through clenched teeth.

"Sorry," she replied, gently stroking the small of his back with her fingers by way of an apology. He closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on his breathing, without much success.

Ross noticed they were no longer right behind him and he walked back to where they had stopped. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Goren groaned. "I just need a minute."

Ross shined the light on him. "You don't look so well, detective."

Annoyed, Goren glared at him and Ross nodded. "That's better."

Eames and Marcy both choked back a chuckle, but Goren missed seeing the humor in it. "Let's just keep going," he growled.

By the time they made it to the clearing near the cabin, it was raining steadily and Goren was in rough shape, leaning more heavily on Eames than he had intended but unable to make it otherwise. As they entered the clearing, Ross stopped. On the porch of the cabin, a young man stared back at them. With a swear, he dropped the fish he was carrying, jumped off the porch and ran off into the woods on the opposite side of the cabin. Ross took off after him and Eames slipped out from under Goren's arm, taking off after the captain to back him up. Marcy grabbed Goren with her free hand when he stumbled forward a few steps, wanting desperately to go after them. "Oh, no you don't," she gently warned as she helped him to the porch, where he collapsed at the top of the steps.

Marcy gave him a chance to recover, then she coaxed him to his feet and helped him into the cabin. Pausing at the door, she said, "Do you happen to have any kind of light?"

"There are a couple of flashlights in the SUV."

"I think your partner and the captain have them."

"Uh...I have a book of matches in my pocket." He turned toward her and searched the pockets of his jacket, still wrapped snugly around Teddy. He pulled out a matchbook and lit one, looking around the room in its light. "On the table there...an oil lamp."

He limped forward, feeling for the lamp and lighting it. The room was filled with a warm glow and he sat heavily in a chair. She pulled up another chair and sat near him. Wide awake, Teddy sat up and looked around. He frowned. "Bad Matt."

"We know, sweetheart," she cooed to the baby.

He looked at Goren. "Hung'y," he said.

Marcy smiled and kissed the little boy's cheek. "Can you hold him for a minute while I get him something to eat?"

"Sure. Come here, champ."

Teddy scrambled into his lap, bumping his injured arm. He gasped, then let his breath out slowly. Marcy touched his shoulder but he waved her off. "Teddy needs to eat," he muttered.

"I'll see what I can find."

He watched her rummage around in the cupboards until she found something to fix for Teddy. She returned to the table with a sandwich. "Here you are, baby."

"Tan-oo," he answered happily, taking a bite of the sandwich. His face lit up. "Pea bunner jeddy!" he announced happily.

Standing beside his chair, Marcy grinned at Goren. "A childhood staple. Can I fix you something?"

He shook his head. "No, thank you. I don't think I could keep anything down at the moment."

She gently rubbed his shoulders. "Try to relax, detective. Let me take a look at your injuries. Maybe I can make you a little more comfortable."

"It'll help when they get back," he grumbled, casting a look out the door into the darkness beyond. "It's not safe to chase a suspect in the dark on his home turf."

"She'll be fine," she assured him.

He nodded, trying to believe her but unable to chase away his worry. "Uh, there's a first aid kit in the SUV, if that helps you."

"It does. I'll be right back."

She left the cabin and Teddy offered his sandwich to Goren. "Bite?"

"No thanks, Teddy."

"Pea bunner jeddy."

"That's okay. You eat it."

"'Kay."

He watched the toddler settle happily back into his sandwich. Marcy came back after a few minutes with a well-stocked tackle box of first aid supplies. She turned up the light from the oil lamp and stepped up behind his chair. Gently, she sifted through his hair to look at the injury on the side of his head. She let out a soft exclamation, and he turned to look at her. "Stay still," she said, placing her hands lightly on his shoulders. "You have a nice cut here."

She returned her attention to his head and he closed his eyes, distracted from his worry for a moment. With a gentle touch, she cleaned and bandaged the injury. Taking out a splint and an ace wrap from the bottom of the box, she splinted his arm, incorporating the ice pack in with the ace wrap over the area that caused him the most pain. She placed another ice pack on his injured knee and wrapped a third one in a cloth, so he could hold it over his eye, which he only did for a few minutes.

She rummaged around some more in the cupboards while he recovered from her ministrations. She had been as gentle as she could, but it had still been painful for him. On top of that, he was unsettled and would remain that way until his partner returned.

She handed Teddy a sippy cup. He gave her a broad grin. "Joos!"

Goren ran his hand over the boy's head as Marcy turned to him with a damp cloth. She cleaned the blood and dirt from the side of his face and his neck, then leaned back to look at him, wishing there was something she could do for the bruise that now covered his right eye and cheek. "You clean up nice," she teased.

He managed a half smile. "I've heard that before."

She pulled her chair closer and sat near him. "Try not to worry."

"I don't...I mean, if..." He had no idea how to explain the source of his unrest.

"She's important to you," she said softly. "So you worry when she's not where you feel you can protect her."

He nodded, glad to find someone, besides Eames, who seemed to understand him. "I always worry about her. I...would be lost without her."

He looked out the open door into the night, waiting for Eames to return, but there was no sign of her.


	6. Home Again

Ross ran after the fleeing young man, his light trained on the retreating figure. He heard someone behind him, assuming it was Eames; Goren wasn't in any shape for a pursuit. When the kid cut to the west, he heard Eames do the same and he moved around to cut off his escape to the north.

Angling toward the suspect, Eames did her best to keep her light aimed in such a way that she could see her quarry as well as where she was going. She heard Ross off to her right, and then the kid cut again to his right, once more closer to Ross.

Ross could have sworn that the kid stooped to grab something as he ran, so he was even more on his guard, hoping that Eames saw the same thing. It was a motion he caught out of the corner of his eye that made the captain duck at the last minute. He felt something swoosh over his head. Eames had come up behind him, also ducking a roundhouse swing of the branch the young man was using like a club. As he came back with his swing, Ross ran into him, hitting him hard and bringing him down. Eames was right there to help him get the man under control. Neither of them was surprised that he chose to fight, but when his arm slipped from Ross' grasp and he hit Eames, the captain saw red. It only took a moment for her to recover and pull out her cuffs. She snapped them on while Ross kept him pinned to the ground with a knee between his shoulder blades. Once the suspect was secure, Ross searched him for a weapon. All he found were the keys to the Toyota, which he handed to Eames. Then they yanked him to his feet and dragged him back to the cabin. "Nice job, detective. Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, captain."

Ross recovered his dropped light and took a look at her face. "That'll be a nice shiner," he said with a smile.

"Just in time for my niece's birthday, too," she commented.

Between them, the young man said, "You are hurting my arm."

"I think that is the least of your worries right now, son," Ross snapped.

"I didn't do anything!" he protested.

"So why did you run?" Eames asked.

"I didn't know who you were?"

"And when we yelled 'Police,' did you think we were joking?"

He frowned. "You don't have to be a cop to say you're a cop."

"What's your name?" Ross demanded.

"Matthew Torello."

"Can you tell us where Teddy Yarborough is, Matt?"

"Uh, no. How should I know where he is?"

Eames' voice was hard. "You brought him up here and then lost him?"

"Y-You can't prove that."

Eames looked at Ross, who nodded. "Your car is sitting at the cabin with a car seat in the back," she said. "And my partner found Teddy and his dog wandering around in the woods. It just seems more than coincidental that we found both of you up here."

Matt seemed to rethink his position. "The little monster wandered off on me. I left the other morning to come up here to go fishing and I saw him wandering around outside. There was no answer at his house, so I brought him up here with me."

Eames glared at him in the light cast by her flashlight. "Didn't it occur to you that his parents might miss him?"

Matt shrugged. "What could I do? There's no signal up here. Then he ran off on me...:" He shrugged.

Eames and Ross looked at each other. Neither believed the kid was that stupid. Eames smiled. "We'll let you talk to my partner. You can tell him just how it is."

Ross nodded his agreement. "But we'll spare you that pleasure for a little while, since he was injured in the search for Teddy. I would be worried, if I were you. Once he sees her eye, he won't be too happy, and Detective Goren is a big man. Hopefully, he will calm down before he recovers enough to talk to you. In the meantime, you can be our guest."

"What? In jail? You can't do that!"

"Yes, we can," Eames replied.

"And we will," Ross assured him, tightening his grip on Matt's arm in anticipation of another struggle, which came on the heels of his statement, delaying their return to the cabin.

Once they finally made it back to the cabin, Ross told Eames, "There's no reason Teddy has to see him. I'll take him to the car and wait for you. Tell your partner that you and I will take Matt in and book him while he and Marcy take Teddy home. Then he needs to go to the hospital."

She nodded. She wasn't happy at the prospect of being separated from her partner, but she understood why it was necessary. She crossed the clearing toward the cabin.

* * *

After finishing his sandwich, Teddy turned in Goren's lap and snuggled into him, yawning. Marcy draped a blanket over the little boy and looked at Goren. "Are you feeling all right?" 

"I suppose so."

"You are too concerned for your partner to worry about yourself."

She had not offered that as a question, but an observation. She was extremely intuitive, and he was impressed. "Something like that," he admitted.

She stepped up behind him and pressed her thumbs against the base of his neck, intent on working the tension from stressed muscles. He groaned softly and closed his eyes. When they heard footsteps on the porch, he forced his eyes open and Marcy moved around to gently lift Teddy from his lap. Eames came into the cabin and crossed the room to her partner's chair, squatting beside him. His eyes widened with concern and he raised his fingers to touch her bruised eye. "Are you all right?"

"Fine." She saw the anger ignite in his eyes and she gripped his hand. "Relax," she insisted. "Ross and I are taking Matt in to book him. You and Marcy take Teddy home and then get your ass to a hospital. Call me and I'll meet you there."

"Eames..."

She frowned. "Don't make me take you, Goren. You _know_ you have to be seen."

He finally nodded, squeezing her hand before she stood. She touched his cheek and stepped away from him, moving over to where Marcy stood near the door with Teddy. Gently resting a hand on the back of Teddy's head, she looked at Marcy and placed the Toyota's keys in her hand. "Take care of him for me," she said, nodding her head in Goren's direction.

Marcy nodded. "I will."

Eames left the cabin, and Marcy turned toward Goren. "Let's get going so we can get this little guy home and you to a hospital."

He realized he would not win an argument against either of them, and certainly not against both, so he decided not to waste what little energy he had left debating it. Besides, the sooner they got back to the city, the sooner he could talk to Eames, to find out how she'd gotten the bruise below her eye. He got to his feet and stumbled a little. Marcy grabbed his arm. He waited until everything stabilized, then he nodded at her. "I'm all right."

"Sure you are, tough guy."

He looked at her with a raised eyebrow and she couldn't help but smile. He didn't smile, but his eyes showed his amusement. "You've been spending too much time with my partner," he accused.

She readjusted the little boy on her shoulder and blew out the lamp. Reaching toward Goren, she touched his arm. "Come on, detective. The sooner we get going, the sooner you'll see a doctor."

He didn't debate his need to see a doctor, but there was no need to rush. The symptoms of his concussion would resolve with rest, and neither his arm nor his knee were critical injuries. He pulled the door shut behind him after leaving the cabin and followed her across the yard to the Toyota. While she buckled Teddy into the carseat, he slid into the passenger seat, leaning his head back and closing his eyes.

She smiled at the little boy and kissed his nose. He smiled back at her. When she got out of the back seat, she motioned to Gordon, who jumped in and sat on the seat beside Teddy. She slid behind the wheel and looked at Goren. "Detective?"

He turned his head toward her and forced his eyes open. "Call me Bobby," he said.

She smiled. "All right, then, Bobby...tell me if you need me to stop for any reason, all right?"

"Anything I need can wait until we stop for gas."

"Humor me, will you?"

His mouth formed a smile. "Haven't I been doing that?" he teased.

She started the car. "According to your partner, you have."

He scratched his temple and shrugged. "She has reasons for her concerns."

She wanted to discuss his partner with him, to see if there was anything she could do to help them stabilize their relationship, but concern for his head injury made her decide this was not the time. So she drove in silence, listening to Teddy talk to his dog as she headed away from the cabin.

She kept an eye on Goren, glancing at him whenever they passed another vehicle and she could see him in the lights of the approaching car. She was worried about him. Concerned and uncertain, she extended her arm toward him, lightly touching the back of his hand. Without thinking, he turned his hand over, then he opened his eyes and looked at her, able to make out her shape in the dark. He did not withdraw his hand and she gave him a gentle squeeze. He smiled and relaxed a little more. He was comfortable with Marcy, and he enjoyed her company. He gripped her hand a little more firmly and closed his eyes again.

When he fell asleep, she left him alone until she stopped for gas. She withdrew her hand from his and slid out of the car. When she was done refueling, she climbed back into the car and gently jostled his shoulder. "Bobby?"

"Hm?"

"Look at me."

She saw the effort it took for him to open his eyes. "What's wrong?"

Her brow furrowed at the slight slurring of his words. "I'm concerned about your head injury."

He nodded, understanding her concern and sharing it, to an extent. "There's nothing they can do about it. I just need to rest."

"Are you sure you're going to be all right?"

He smiled. "You're the psychic," he teased. "You tell me."

She laughed, knowing by now that his teasing was just that and he meant nothing malicious. She touched his cheek. "I think you'll be fine."

"So do I," he answered, leaning into her hand a little.

She liked his affectionate nature. He was a kind man, naturally gentle in spite of his size and his chosen career. It was difficult not to like him. Withdrawing her hand with a warm smile, she started the car, pulled away from the pump and continued toward Long Island.

* * *

It was almost five in the morning when they pulled up in front of the Yarborough's home. Eames had called Goren to let him know she was going to call Teddy's parents from the squad room, where their number was in the file. He agreed with her, then reassured her that he was fine and he'd see her in a few hours. 

Marcy parked the car near the Torello residence. She opened the back door, and Gordon jumped from the back seat. He ran down the street toward home while Marcy took the sleeping toddler from the car. Goren waited for her on the sidewalk. His body had stiffened on the ride and he tried to work out the kinks in his back by stretching. He couldn't move his arm and his knee was not happy about weight bearing.

Joining him on the sidewalk, Marcy rested a hand on his uninjured arm. "Can you make it all right?"

He nodded. "I'll be fine."

"We can call an ambulance..."

"No. I've made it this far. I can wait. Let's take this little guy to his mother."

She stayed close as they walked down the street to the Yarborough home, making no secret of the fact that she was keeping an eye on him. When they entered the Yarborough's yard, where Gordy sat waiting on the porch, the door opened and Vicky came running down the steps to take her son from Marcy's arms. "Teddy!"

She hugged the little boy close and he woke up. "Momma!" he cried out, hugging her and laughing. "Momma!"

With tears in her eyes, Vicky looked at Marcy and Goren. "I don't know how to thank you."

"You already did," Goren answered.

She looked at him more closely, noting the bruised abrasions on his face and the pain he could not keep from his eyes. "Are you all right, detective?"

"I'm fine, Mrs. Yarborough."

Marcy smiled at the happy mother. "He...ran into a bear. You should see the bear."

Goren laughed. "Don't give me that much credit." He rested a hand on Teddy's head. "Good-bye, buddy."

Teddy waved to him. "Bye!" Then he patted his mother and told him, "Momma!"

"That's right. You're home with Momma now."

"Tan-oo."

"You're welcome."

"Yes, thank you," Vicky said.

He gave her a smile. "Take care of yourselves...and give that dog a steak. He took very good care of Teddy."

Vicky stroked Gordon's head and carried her little son back into the house, determined to coax her father into making a phone call or two. She wanted the details of her son's rescue and strong kudos for the officers who found him and brought him home to her. She would thank Marcy herself.

* * *

Eames was relieved to hear from her partner. Matt Torello was in custody on kidnapping charges and Marcy was bringing Goren back to Manhattan, most likely at his insistence. He said she was taking him to St. Clare's. So she told the captain she was taking off to meet them at the hospital and she promised to call him that afternoon with an update. He was headed home for a few hours' sleep before picking up his sons for the weekend. 

Eames was in the emergency room waiting area when Goren and Marcy arrived. Worry immediately settled in her gut when she saw him. Hurrying to his side, she said, "You look like hell, Bobby."

"That good, huh?"

Her mouth set in a grim line, she approached the reception desk, where she had already filled in the necessary paperwork to get him seen right away. She spoke with the volunteer at the desk then sat beside Goren, assuring him he'd been seen quickly.

Marcy sat at his other side and leaned forward. "I'm going to grab a cab and head home, Bobby."

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely. I'm exhausted. I'll call you over the weekend."

He didn't miss her quick glance toward Eames, and he knew that his partner was part of the reason she was leaving. She was not comfortable around Eames, and he didn't exactly blame her. He nodded. "Instead of calling a cab, take my car. You can bring it back to me this weekend. I'm not going anywhere."

When she hesitated, Eames said, "Feel free to accept his offer, Miss Chambers. I'll make sure he gets home."

She finally nodded, accepting the keys she had given to him when they arrived. "Thank you."

He smiled wearily, squeezing her arm lightly in response. She stood and looked at Eames. "Good-bye, detective."

Eames nodded at her. "Thanks for keeping an eye on him."

"That was no problem."

Her fingers brushed his shoulder and she left the hospital. Eames looked at him, but she said nothing. His relationship with Marcy, she had already decided, was his business, and not hers. But she still did not know how she felt about it. The unfocused jealousy she had identified earlier contributed to her uncertainty and it irritated her. She had no business being jealous. Her relationship with Goren was exactly what it needed to be. A little rockier, perhaps, than she was comfortable with at the moment, but they would work it out. She knew that he, too, was struggling to smooth things out between them. The unrest between them made him even more on edge than she was.

Five minutes later, a nurse came out to usher him back to the emergency room proper. Eames waited with him while a doctor examined him and sent him for x-rays. She half-expected him to try convincing her to go home, and she readied herself with a rebuke for any argument she thought he might come up with, but he surprised her. He seemed to want her there and didn't try sending her away.

* * *

Goren dozed lightly, reassured by Eames' apparent willingness to stay with him. He felt that if he tried to send her home, he would only cause more problems with her, and it was with great reluctance that he admitted to himself that he actually did want her there. He was in quite a bit of pain, and her presence made it somehow easier to handle. He was too tired to analyze that; he'd think about it later. What mattered most right now was the simple fact that she was there. 

The return of the nurse roused him from his light sleep and he immediately sought out Eames. She met his eyes, touching his hand to reassure him. He relaxed. The nurse injected something into his IV line, then looked at Eames. "You are going to take him home, aren't you?"

"Yes," Eames answered.

She wrote on the clipboard in her hand and said to Goren, "You have a moderate concussion which should resolve on its own, but if your symptoms worsen, come back in. We placed a brace on your knee and a splint on your arm. Apply ice as tolerated to each of them. You need to follow up with an orthopedic surgeon in three days to get a cast on that arm and check your knee for any damage we may have missed because of the swelling. Rest as much as you can; you'll heal faster. Dr. Martin wrote two prescriptions--one for pain and an anti-inflammatory to help with the swelling. If you have any more problems, you can call or come back in to be re-evaluated. Any questions?"

He shook his head. "No."

"Then sign right here."

He signed his name, then leaned back on the bed. The nurse smiled and handed the copies of his paperwork and his prescriptions to Eames. "You can take him home. He should sleep well once he's settled."

"Thank you."

As the nurse left, Eames asked, "Do you need help getting dressed?"

"No, Eames. I can dress myself."

"Have it your way."

She sat down to watch as he pulled on his jeans. Already torn at the knee, there was no problem with the brace. He slipped his sweatshirt on over his head, deciding against even trying to put his right arm into the sleeve. Sliding off the bed, he held onto it and slipped his shoes on. "Ready?" he asked.

"Ready."

She picked up his jacket and grabbed his arm to steady him when he faltered. He rubbed his temple. "I...uh..."

"Yeah, I know. IV medication works quickly. Let's get you home."

* * *

When they got to his building, she guided him to his apartment, opening the door with her key since Marcy had his. She bit back a comment about that. In spite of his protests, she steered him toward the bedroom. "Get undressed. I'll get you a glass of water." 

It was a little bit of a struggle, but he managed to undress and pull on a pair of sweatpants. He didn't bother with a shirt. By the time she came back into the room, he was laying on the bed. She set the glass on the nightstand beside the bed. "Do you need me to stay?"

He shook his head, regretting the movement. "I'm just going to sleep."

"I'll get your prescriptions filled later this afternoon and bring them by with dinner. Will you be okay until then?"

"I'll be fine, Eames."

She turned away but he grabbed her hand. She looked at him, surprised. "Thank you," he said softly.

She felt her irritation with him slip away and she gently ran a hand through his hair. "Sleep well, Bobby."

He gave her a sleepy smile and released her hand. She pulled the blanket up to cover him and by the time she got to the door, he was out.

* * *


	7. An Ominous Premonition

Goren was dozing on the couch Sunday when his doorbell rang. He woke easily and got to his feet, limping to the door. Pulling it open, he smiled. "Marcy...come in."

She held out his keys as she came into the apartment. "Thank you, Bobby. Like I told you yesterday, I'm sorry I didn't bring it back yesterday, but I spent the entire day at the Yarborough's home.""

He took the keys and crossed the room to set them down by the phone. "It's fine. I slept most of the day anyway. How's Teddy?"

"He's doing great. How are you feeling?"

He shrugged. "I'm all right."

"Are you still in a lot of pain?"

"It's calmed down quite a bit. Uh, can I get you something?"

She held up a bag. "I brought lunch, if you're hungry."

He motioned toward the couch. Sitting down, she watched him carefully sit and prop his injured leg on the coffee table. She touched the hand of his splinted arm. "How is your arm?" she asked.

"Better. I have an appointment tomorrow to have a cast put on it."

She unpacked the bag and set two styrofoam containers on the table. "Do you need a ride?"

"No, thank you. Eames is going to take me."

She nodded, then she turned her head to look at him. "Do you always call her by her last name?"

"Uh, yes. I always have."

"Why?"

He shrugged. "She's my partner."

"Is it easier to think of her as 'Eames' instead of 'Alex'? Or is it just more impersonal?"

"Impersonal? No..."

"She calls you 'Bobby'."

"We just have different styles, that's all."

She handed him one of the take-out boxes. Now that she'd opened the door, she might as well step on through. "Something happened between the two of you recently."

He was quiet as he looked at the closed container in his hands. Deliberately, he opened it. Meatloaf, potatoes and green beans...the quintessential comfort food meal. "Coffee..I'll put on some fresh coffee."

He moved to get up but she reached out and rested a hand on his arm. "I'll get it."

He watched her rise from the couch and cross the room toward the kitchen. She found the coffee and filters and set about making a fresh pot, giving him time to consider the answer to her observation. She carried two coffee cups into the living room and set them on the coffee table. "Cream, no sugar, right?"

"Right."

She handed him a plastic-wrapped knife and fork. "So...what happened?"

He sighed. "It was...my fault. We're...getting our equilibrium back."

"Are you?"

"We're trying."

Her gray eyes studied him. "Something..." She searched for the proper word for what she sensed they had been through. "...catastrophic happened. Something deeply personal."

"Yes," he agreed. "My mother...developed cancer. She died last summer."

"Were you close to her?"

"In a manner of speaking...as close as anyone ever was, I suppose. She was sick all my life, and I took care of her. She was the primary focus of my personal life, and she was all I had. At least, I thought so."

"Are you an only child?"

"I might as well be. My brother is a junkie. I don't have anything to do with him, and he never helped care for her."

She sensed a reluctance in him. He wasn't used to talking about matters that were deeply personal to him, not like this. But she gently pushed on. "So what happened between you and Alex?"

He ran his hand through his hair, restless. She waited, watching him expectantly, with a look of intense interest on her face. She wanted to help him, and she hoped he understood that. He didn't answer, turning his attention toward the food on the coffee table, but not reaching for it yet. She watched him retreat, and she reached out to him. Her hand gently rubbed his arm and she leaned closer to look at his face.

He met her eyes, and he saw an open curiosity and a deep interest; he felt a powerful sense of caring. She could read people well, but she was also open to being read. He touched her cheek. Eames did not trust her, but he saw more in this woman than his partner did. He was more open to her, perhaps, but he saw no deception in anything she had said or done. He decided that placing a small amount of trust in her was not likely to backfire on him. "I-I pushed her away, and she pushed back. I didn't handle that too well. I was a wreck, and I didn't see that she was there for me. She tried to head off the crash, but she couldn't, so she put herself to the task of picking up the pieces. Now...I'm trying to repair the damage. She seems...reluctant to, uh, to trust me again. An-and I can't blame her."

"You don't want to lose her."

"No. I don't. But I'm afraid that I'm offering too little, too late. It's no one's fault, but my own."

"I wouldn't underestimate her attachment to you, Bobby."

"Eames will do fine without me. I'm the one who flounders in her absence."

Marcy leaned back against the couch. "I see part of your problem. You don't give either of you enough credit."

"Maybe she just expects too much from me."

"Is it too much for you to accept a helping hand?"

"It's too much for me to be a burden to a friend."

"So you think that by pushing her away and letting your life fall apart you would be less of a burden to her than if you had let her in to give you support in the first place? How could it _not_ have been difficult for her to watch you disintegrate?"

Knowing a little more about what had happened between the partners, what had happened to damage their friendship, Marcy felt in a stronger position to help them. But she backed off for now, letting him eat in peace and mull over her words, which is exactly what he did.

She had stopped pushing just short of driving him underground. She poked enough to get him worked up, but not far enough to drive him to withdraw. They finished their lunch in silence; she let him stew over her words.

Once she cleared away the remains of their meal, in spite of his protest that he would do it, she returned to the couch. "So...what do you feel up for? We can play cards...or watch TV...or we can talk..."

"Cards...that's a good idea," he said quickly, wanting to avoid an afternoon of conversation. "There's a deck in the desk, top drawer on the left."

She walked to the desk and pulled open the drawer. Settled on top of the deck was an unframed photograph of two young boys. They looked a lot alike: dark hair that was long enough to curl but short enough to not be unruly, dark eyes in smiling faces. The older boy had his arm around the shoulder of the younger; they looked like best friends. She turned it over and read the caption, written in a woman's script: _Frank and Bobby, Carnarsie Pier, Brooklyn, September 1966. _

She returned it to its place as she grabbed the deck of cards. A soft smile touched her face as she looked at the picture again, but it faded quickly. She studied the image of young Bobby and, with her mind's eye and the sixth sense that sometimes came unbidden, she saw something that made her heart catch in her throat. _No..._

She pushed the drawer closed. She had to be wrong...but she knew she wasn't. The image was clear and vibrant, and she could not shake it from her mind as she sat back on the couch, handing him the deck. "Marcy? What's wrong?"

She shook her head. "It's nothing. Um, how about a game of gin rummy?"

"Are you sure you're all right? You look a little pale."

"Indigestion," she assured him. "That meatloaf was a little spicier than my stomach likes."

He looked unconvinced, but he accepted her answer and shuffled the cards.

As the afternoon wore on, her mood lightened, thanks in part to gentle teasing from him. She didn't bring up his partner again, shaken as she was by the image she had seen in the photograph. She found he could get her to laugh with little effort, and she was again drawn to his gentle affection. Losing track of who's turn it was, she reached toward the discard pile, her hand coming into contact with his. She looked up, surprised. He looked up at the same moment, meeting her eyes with a soft smile. Neither withdrew their hand. Instead, he closed his fingers around hers and drew her closer, gently pulling her into a kiss. She was too overwhelmed to withdraw and she raised her other hand to touch his cheek.

When they pulled back, his smile reappeared. She returned it and said, "It-It's your turn."

With a soft chuckle, he drew a card from the deck and the game continued.

* * *

It was just after five, and there was a knock at the door. Marcy jumped up to answer it. Eames stood in the hallway, annoyed but not surprised to see her. Marcy offered a friendly smile. "Hello, Detective Eames...come in." 

Eames hesitated, but stepped past her into the apartment. Goren smiled at her. "Hello, Eames."

"Hi, Bobby. I just came by to see how you're feeling."

"A little better than yesterday. How was your niece's birthday party?"

"It was nice."

"Uh...your eye?"

"I told you yesterday, there's nothing wrong with it. It's just a bruise. Stop worrying." She sighed, eyes darting from the cards spread on the couch beside him to Marcy standing near the television.. "I didn't mean to interrupt anything. I guess I'll be on my way home now."

Goren frowned. "You came all this way for a two minute visit?"

"I told you, I just wanted to check on you."

"You could have done that with a phone call."

"Next time I will," she snapped irritably.

She left the apartment and he leaned his head back with a frustrated sigh. Marcy hurried after Eames. "Detective Eames...wait a minute, please."

Eames could think of no way to gracefully avoid stopping to talk to the woman, so she did, but her annoyance was evident. Marcy ignored it. "Don't leave. I have to be going anyway. Stay and talk to him. He wants that from you."

Eames' eyes narrowed at her. "And how would you know what he wants?"

"Please trust me with this, detective. He needs you more than you seem to realize."

"What I realize, Miss Chambers, is that he would rather have your company."

"What makes you say that?"

Eames let out a slow, frustrated breath. "I have known him for almost seven years, and it's clear that he wants...to get to know you better. So go in there and get to know him."

"I am fully aware of what he thinks he wants and what he really does want. Detective, I could very easily go back in there and with the proper encouragement, and very little effort, you're right. I could get to know him very well. He's lonely and he craves...positive interaction. He'll take it from me because he likes me and there is nothing to prevent us from developing a deeper relationship. But there is something in his heart that he is having difficulty acknowledging. I can see it in his eyes every time he talks about you. But he buries it deep, and you are the only one who can bring it out."

"What are you talking about? Bring what out?"

Marcy sighed. "You do know that he loves you."

"That's not any of your business."

"Please...parts of his heart are very easy to read. He cares deeply for you, but I wonder if you realize just how _much_ he cares."

When Eames didn't answer, she went on, "Detective Eames, he will settle for me, and never even realize that's what he's doing. I don't want him to settle, not when the woman he wants is right in front of him, taunting him on a daily basis."

Anger flashed in Eames' eyes. "Excuse me...I..."

Marcy raised a hand, gently interrupting. "Yes. You do. Just by being close by. Talk to him. Watch how he acts and reacts to you. It's there. You just have to see it for what it really is, not for what you imagine it to be. Until you deal with it, the tension between the two of you will never dissipate. Ultimately, it will tear you apart. Please stay, at least for a little while. I'm going home."

Eames considered her words. "What's in this for you?"

"Why do you think I want something? I...care about him, that's all. He deserves to be happy."

Finally, Eames sighed heavily and started back down the hall to his apartment. "There's one more thing, Detective Eames."

Eames stopped. _Here it comes..._ "What is that?"

"Do you remember that I told you I can sometimes see a person's fate in a photograph? That was how I knew that Teddy was not going to die."

"I remember. What about it?"

"I know you think it's a bunch of stuff and nonsense, but I have never been wrong with that particular ability. I have no idea if that fate can be changed, but I have to ask you to please...watch out for him. I saw a picture of him with his brother..." She hung her head, still disturbed by what she'd seen. "He's going to die, detective, soon...and violently. I won't waste your time with more detail, since I know you don't believe me. Just...take care of him."

In spite of herself, Eames was disturbed by what Marcy told her. She tried to remind herself that she did not believe in psychics, and yet, she could not shake the dread caused by that particular prediction. She looked Marcy in the eye before turning away and continuing into the apartment. Marcy followed her.

Goren watched them come through the door, his eyes darting nervously from one woman to the other. Eames was impressed that he'd stayed where he was. Marcy stepped up to him and leaned down to kiss his cheek. "I have to go now. I'll call you tomorrow."

"Do you have a way home?"

"Yes. I don't have too far to go. Good night, Bobby."

"Be careful, Marcy."

She gave him a warm smile, then looked at Eames. "Good-bye, Detective Eames."

"Good night, Miss Chambers."

She grabbed her bag and left the apartment. Goren looked at his partner. "You're angry."

"No, Bobby. I'm annoyed, but that's not entirely your fault. I just...I don't want you to get hurt."

He paused before answering, "We always risk getting hurt when we get involved with another person. You know that. But if we never take the risk...what's the point?"

She watched him gather the cards and shuffle them together. _It will tear you apart..._ She sat on the couch beside him. "How are you feeling?"

"Better. My head's not in such a fog."

"Good." She touched his knee. "How's the knee doing?"

"Not so good. It still hurts to walk and the swelling hasn't gone down any, but my arm is all right."

She nodded. "It will get better," she assured him.

"I know it will. Eames, what did you tell Marcy?"

"If you want to know if I chased her away, no, I didn't. She wanted me to stay and keep you company."

His mouth set in a grim line. He wondered if he'd scared her when he kissed her. She was probably relived to see Eames so she could retreat gracefully and not leave him alone, before something else happened. He leaned back and sighed heavily. Eames gave him a smile. "You didn't chase her off, either, if that's what you're thinking. If you would rather spend time with her than with me..."

"I never said that..."

"You like her."

He didn't like the way she made it sound like an accusation. "Yes, I do. It's not a crime."

She supposed she should have expected defensiveness. He hated her disapproval, even if he would stand his ground with her when he believed in something. Apparently, he liked Marcy enough to take a stand for her, and Eames respected him for that. "You're right," she conceded. "There's no rule that says I have to like your girlfriends. But I don't have to be around them, either."

"I'm not dating her, Eames."

"Yet," she shot back with a little more venom than she intended.

When she made a move to get up, he grabbed her arm. "Please don't leave."

She decided it was time to challenge him. She wasn't sure if she believed Marcy's psychic abilities or not, but there was no doubt of the woman's ability to read people. "Why?"

One simple word and she could see how much off-guard it caught him. The word might be simple, but she knew there was nothing simple about the answer. He became restless-- unable, or unwilling, to face the real answer to her question. "I just want you...to stay. I feel better when you're here."

"And why is that?"

He frowned. "I don't know. Does there have to be a reason?"

"With you, there is always a reason."

But he turned the tables on her by deflecting her question away from him. "Did you really come by for a two minute visit?"

She let him get away with it for the moment, unwilling to agitate him. Just because his knee was injured did not mean he wouldn't start pacing anyway if he was upset. He suffered enough pain. "Of course not. I came by to have dinner with you..."

He looked surprised. "You did? But you were going to leave..."

"Because Marcy was here? Yes."

"I don't understand why you hate her so much."

"I don't hate her. I just don't like her. I don't trust her motives, especially with you."

He let his breath out in an aggravated huff. "Can we not have _that_ argument again, please."

"Fine. I'll fix dinner. You...just sit here and stay out of the way."

She knew if she didn't tell him to stay put, he wouldn't. It was questionable if he'd stay there anyway, but he did. She fixed a simple chicken stir fry that she'd learned from him and knew he liked. Dinner was comfortable, but mostly quiet. She knew he was thinking and she left him alone to analyze whatever was in his mind.

When they finished eating, she cleaned up, threatening to knock him down if he got off the couch to help. His injuries gave her a little bit of an advantage over him and she was going to make the most of it. The only other time she stood a chance was when he was drunk and she was not, but then she usually spent so much time laughing, her advantage dissolved.

He remained where he was, annoyed, which amused her. It took her ten minutes to clean up and she returned to the living room. "There. Done. It would have taken twice as long if I had to trip over you in the kitchen."

"I hate being waited on."

"I know. You prefer to be moving. But you're not up for it right now, so deal with it."

His sigh was a half-growl, but he didn't argue any further. She smiled to herself. "Want to watch a movie?"

He shrugged. "Whatever you want to do."

She chose a DVD and slipped it into the player, then sat beside him on the couch. "What did you do all afternoon?"

"Not much. Played cards."

She didn't comment, for which he was glad. She waited until partway through the movie, when he was half-asleep. Reaching toward him, she gently grasped his arm and drew him toward her, until his head was resting in her lap. He tensed briefly, but when she began to lightly rub his temple, he relaxed. She was surprised, but pleased, when he remained where he was. He rested the hand of his splinted arm against her leg and he felt himself fading in response to the gentle circles she traced through his hair and along the side of his face. It occurred to him to wonder what she was doing, but the thought vanished as quickly as it appeared.

Once he was asleep, she absently ran her fingers through his hair and thought about what Marcy had told her. Was she sincere, or had she enacted a self-fulfilling prophesy? Did saying make it so? Only time would tell and she realized, with a fleeting sense of panic, Goren's life could lay in the balance. It was not a chance she was willing to take.


	8. An Unexpected Connection

When Eames arrived at the squad room Monday morning, she was surprised to see Goren at his desk. She was even more surprised to see Marcy step out of Ross' office with the captain. "What's going on, Goren?" she asked.

Goren shrugged. "She got here about ten minutes ago, said hello and went right in to talk to Ross."

"All right. Bigger question. What are_ you_ doing here?"

"I work here."

"You are supposed to be on sick leave."

"Funny. Ross said the same thing."

"Because you are!"

"The guy who murdered Cora isn't going to hang around waiting for other people to tell me I feel better."

She leaned over the desk and hissed, "Goren..."

"Good morning, Eames," Ross said as he and Marcy approached them. "Listen up, both of you. Miss Chambers will be assisting you with this case. Play nice. Eames, can I see you in my office?"

Eames looked at Goren, then followed Ross. Marcy grabbed an empty chair from a nearby desk and pulled it up beside Goren. "I'm surprised to see you here this morning."

"We still have a murder to solve."

She looked him over. "You're still in pain."

"That's inevitable. But I have a job to do."

She was quiet for a moment before she looked around, then asked, "Did you talk to her last night?"

He appreciated the fact that she didn't use his partner's name. "A little."

"You need to talk more than a little, Bobby."

He returned his attention to the file. "I know."

Marcy knew when to push and when to back off, and it was time to back off. She rolled the chair closer and looked at the file over his arm. He readjusted his position and moved the file closer to her. Pulling out the crime scene photos, he began to go over it with her.

* * *

Ross sat behind his desk and looked at Eames. "Correct me if I'm wrong. You are the one who doesn't particularly like Miss Chambers." 

"I don't trust her, no. It has nothing to do with liking or disliking her."

"And your partner?"

"He's more inclined to be open-minded."

Ross was quiet for a moment. They'd had little opportunity to talk on the drive from Cranberry Lake with Matthew in the car, protesting his treatment and proclaiming his innocence for the entire ride. "Can he be impartial?"

"He'll be fine, captain. No one tells him how to think."

"Can you work with her?"

"Don't worry about me. If you want her to work with us, then she'll work with us. Is there anything else?"

"Yes. Your partner. How are his injuries?"

"About the same. I'm taking him to get a cast on his arm this afternoon."

"So he's still in significant pain, and he's here?"

Eames almost smiled. "It's hard to keep a good man down," she replied. Then she became serious. "He won't let a case lay around. Here or at home, his mind will be on the case."

"What's going on with Matthew?"

"We'll talk to him this morning."

"Let me know. I want to observe."

She nodded and left the office. The first thing she noticed was the close proximity of her partner to Marcy, and she felt an odd churning in her gut. Was part of her problem with Marcy the jealousy she'd been struggling with, knowing for certain that Goren was interested in her? How much of it was her distrust of Marcy's professed abilities? She wasn't sure, but Marcy's premonition of Goren's fate was still not sitting right with her. She got the impression the psychic knew more than she was telling. She intended to get Marcy alone at some point during the day to see if she could offer any more detail.

She sat at her desk, not paying attention to Goren and Marcy as they reviewed the case together, and this time she knew exactly what fueled her resentment. She glared at her partner for a moment before he looked up and met her eyes. She watched the change in his expression from curious to contrite. "Uh, I was reviewing what we have, Eames. Do...do you have anything to add?"

"We have to talk to Matt."

"Yes, we do. I called his parents this morning, but they have no interest in being present. They have retained an attorney for him, though."

She snorted in disdain. "At least they did that much. Do you want to get that out of the way now?"

"We might as well." He picked up the phone. "His attorney is over at the courthouse today."

After a few minutes of conversation, he dropped the receiver into its cradle. "He'll be over at about 11. He's got a couple of hearings to get through first."

He shifted in the chair, and neither woman missed his grimace of pain. Eames asked, "Did you bring your medicine?"

"No. I'm fine, Eames."

"Sure you are. We'll stop and get it on the way to the doctor."

He huffed in annoyance, but it faded when another detective handed him a folder. He opened it, scanned the contents and said, "Uh, let's find a conference room."

"Crime scene report?"

He nodded, getting up from his chair and shuffling the file's contents together. Eames recognized his excited energy, and she could not help smiling as she and Marcy followed him to a nearby conference room.

* * *

The crime scene photos were tacked up on the wall and the contents of the file were spread across the table. The killer had left very little trace, which told them the breaking and entering was not an impulsive act. Whoever confronted Cora in the house meant to be there. But why? 

Eames watched Goren pace, recognizing the familiar energy but unable to hide her concern as his limp worsened. Attempts by both women to get him to sit met with limited success. He tried to sit, to allay their concerns, but he was unable to remain seated for long.

He was in the middle of a bout of pacing when the door opened and another detective poked his head into the room. "Torello's lawyer is here, guys."

Eames nodded at him. "Thanks, Carlos." She looked at Goren. "I'll have Matt brought in and meet you in observation two."

Goren nodded and left the room with Marcy.

* * *

A half hour later, Goren and Eames were seated on the opposite side of the table from Matt and his lawyer. "Okay, Matt," Goren began. "Tell us what happened the morning you decided to go fishing." 

Behind the two-way glass, Marcy and Ross watched as Matt told the detectives how he'd cut out of school after lunch and drove home for his fishing gear. He found Teddy and his dog wandering on the street and he took them home, but there was no answer at the Yarboroughs'. Rather than leave the toddler alone on the porch, and not wanting his parents to know he'd skipped school, he brought them with him to the cabin.

"Explain the car seat in your car," Eames challenged.

"He's two. It's the law that he's gotta be in a carseat. So I stopped and bought one in Riverhead, so I wouldn't get stopped. I got some dog food and a couple of boxes of macaroni and cheese, and some milk."

"Macaroni and cheese and milk?"

"Yeah. Little kids like mac an' cheese and they drink milk. I didn't think he'd eat fish."

Eames looked at her partner, then back at Matt. "When were you planning to return him to his parents?"

"When I went home. What did you think? I was gonna keep him? Get real."

Goren scratched the side of his head. "So how did he end up lost out in the woods?"

"The little monster was crying for his mom and calling me 'Bad Matt,' I guess because I wouldn't take him home. I left him for two minutes to go take a leak and when I came back, he and the dog were gone."

The detectives sat in silence, waiting for him to continue. His eyes darted from one to the other. "What? He ran off."

Eames gave him an incredulous look. "And you just let him go?"

"What was I supposed to do? I looked for him, but I couldn't find him. So I went fishing. I looked some more the next day, but I don't know where he got off to. He was looking for his mother."

"So you went fishing again."

"Yeah. Everything was fine until you and that other guy chased and tackled me."

Goren shook a finger at the teen. "You hit my partner. That wasn't very smart, Matt. That's assaulting a police officer."

"I-I didn't know she was a cop!"

He leaned closer over the table. "Then let me give you a little advice. When a beautiful woman chases you, you don't try to clean her clock."

Matt looked embarrassed, but then he said, "You do when you think she's gonna kill you!"

"Come on," Goren cajoled. "She identified herself as a police officer. You got scared because you thought we'd find your stash in the cabin."

Matt's eyes widened. "Did you?"

The teen was off his guard now and Goren shifted direction. "Cora Richards."

Matt frowned. "What? What are you talking about?"

"Matt's caretaker. What did you do to her?"

"You mean the old lady? I didn't do anything. I haven't seen her in weeks, since the last time I skipped school and she was outside taking Teddy for a walk. Why? What did she say I did?"

Goren looked at his partner, and she nodded at the silent observation she saw in his eyes. They rose. "We'll be back," Eames said.

"Hey," Matt called. "How did you find my stash?"

Goren shook his head. "We didn't."

The boy paled. "Then how did you know...?"

He just grinned and they left the room. When they entered the observation room, Ross said, "Yes, detective, how _did _you know?"

"I was seventeen once...and I could smell it in the cabin."

Ross frowned. "I didn't smell anything."

"I worked narcotics for four years."

Eames added, "And he has the nose of a bloodhound."

He looked at her and gave her half of an amused smile. She saw the bright glow of pain in his eyes in spite of his efforts to hide it. His eyes lingered on hers almost long enough for Ross to notice. Looking away at the last moment, he said, "He didn't kill Cora Richards."

Marcy had noticed the interaction between the detectives, and it reinforced her decision to help heal the rift that had developed between them recently. She waited for Goren to look at her for her opinion. "I agree. He didn't do it."

Eames bit back a bitter, sarcastic response and looked at Goren. He was watching Marcy, and she became irritated. She addressed her partner. "What makes you say that, Goren?"

Goren sighed silently at the sudden frost in her tone. "He doesn't have the feel of a killer. There was no change in his demeanor when I mentioned Cora or told him who she was. He's seventeen and he doesn't have a record. I talked to the principal at his school this morning, and he's not a real trouble maker. He's an average kid. We're looking at the wrong suspect."

Ross leveled cool eyes on his brightest detective, and his biggest headache. "Then bring me the right suspect. Until then I like him for this and we're holding him for murder and kidnapping. Now go and sit down, detective, before you fall down."

Goren glared at him, but left the room without arguing, annoyed that Ross could tell he was faltering. Marcy followed him but Ross kept Eames back. "When does he see the doctor?"

"After lunch."

"Take him home after that. And tell him to stay there. I don't want to see him at that desk in the morning...or anytime tomorrow, or the day after. Are the two of you still disagreeing over Miss Chambers?"

"No."

"Then, what's the problem?"

"There's no problem. I just don't trust her and he does. It's not a problem."

"Don't let your emotions bog you down, Eames. I talked to someone out in Tulsa who worked with her. He says she's the real deal. Or is Goren the problem?"

She tensed at the accusation. "He's not a problem," she snapped, annoyed to have to defend Goren, again, to the captain.

"All right, then. Work with her and try to get along."

Irritated, she left the room. Ross shook his head and returned to his office.

Eames hated the way her partner focused on Marcy when she talked to him. It escaped her notice that he did the same to her, perhaps even more intently. She didn't like the warmth in his eyes or the obvious affection in his smile. She remembered a time when she'd teased him about his attractions, but lately, all the amusement had gone out of such teasing. When he reached out and touched Marcy's arm, laughing that soft laugh of his, she felt her gut clench once again, and she hated feeling that way.

She sat down at her desk without looking at them, pulling a small stack of forms from her top drawer and starting in on them.

Goren studied her for a moment, then looked at Marcy, who reached out and squeezed his shoulder, leaning over to speak softly into his ear. He smiled and nodded. She got up and walked away from the desks. Goren turned to say something to his partner, but she got up without a word and followed Marcy from the squadroom. He sighed heavily, but he didn't have the emotional energy to pursue her at the moment. He imagined she would lay into him when she took him to his appointment. He made up his mind to take the subway home afterwards. He was getting tired of fighting.

Eames caught up to Marcy. "Miss Chambers?"

Marcy stopped at the elevators and turned toward her. "Yes, Detective Eames?"

"May I have a private word?"

Marcy nodded and followed her into the conference room they had spent the morning in. Eames leaned against the table "I didn't sleep last night, thinking about what you told me yesterday. Miss Chambers, I know I get annoyed with him, but my partner is very important to me. If there is anything else you can tell me?"

"I thought you scorned my premonitions."

Eames bit her lip. "You said...you have never been wrong in this."

Marcy sat down and crossed her arms as if suddenly cold. "I saw my first image in a picture when I was fourteen. It was my father. I saw him...and a bus...superimposed over an image of him sleeping. I didn't know what I was seeing...until he was hit by a bus two weeks later and killed. I had not seen him sleeping." She rubbed her arms. "There have been seventeen images since then, and every one of them has come to pass. Every image I saw became reality. I have tried to warn people, twice. One was a little boy who drowned. His parents scoffed at my warning. I was there, and I tried to save him. I almost drowned myself. The other one was another police officer. He told me he couldn't let my fears keep him from doing his job. He was hit in the head with a tire iron by a suspect. He died two days later."

"Were you there every time?"

"No. Just when the little boy drowned. I wasn't there when Brad was hit, but I was at his bedside when he died."

"So you knew him personally?"

She nodded. "He was my husband."

That struck a painfully familiar chord with Eames. She bit her lip. "I lost a husband, too, in the line of duty."

Marcy looked thoughtful. "Is that why you push Bobby away like you do?"

"Push him away? What are you talking about?"

Marcy lowered her voice, aware of their surroundings. "He has a very powerful attachment to you, detective. He cares deeply, but he's afraid to confront the extent of his feelings because he questions how you feel about him. You need to clarify your feelings for him so he can come to terms with his own heart and move on, if he has to. Right now, he's very confused because he gets mixed messages from you. He seeks clarity, especially now, when his life is so unsettled."

"What do you know about it?"

"Not a lot, but enough to read his confusion and his desire for some kind of resolution. He's tired of being lonely, and he's more alone now than he's ever been before."

Marcy got up from the chair. Eames held out her hand to delay her departure for a moment longer. "Tell me what you saw in his picture."

"I saw blood, and a weapon made of metal. A gun or a knife, maybe, but it wasn't clear."

"His brother was in that picture as well. How do you know it wasn't Frank?"

"There's one way to be certain. Do you have a picture of him by himself?"

Eames gave it some thought. "Would his ID badge work?"

Marcy nodded. Eames left the room and walked up to her partner. "I need to borrow this for a minute, Bobby."

She pulled his ID badge off his breast pocket and walked away, leaving him baffled. Returning to the conference room, she handed the badge to Marcy, almost feeling badly for hoping her premonition was about Frank. Almost, but not quite. Marcy looked at the picture on the ID badge and then she closed her eyes and dropped her chin to her chest. She held the badge out to Eames, who took it. Finally, Marcy looked at her, and there were real tears in her eyes. "I wasn't wrong. It's Bobby."

For a reason she could not explain, those words caused fear to grip Eames' heart in an icy vise. "Is it more clear?"

"A little. I think it's a knife...and I see handcuffs on the ground...asphalt..a parking lot, or maybe a jogging path in one of the parks."

"Soon, you said."

"Yes. Soon. Within the week, maybe." She drew her brows into a curious frown. "You don't place any stock in my ability, Detective Eames. Why do you believe this?"

"I don't know. Maybe because it reaches into a part of me I had tried to keep apart from him."

"The part that remembers how much it hurt to lose your husband?"

"That would be it."

"I remember that pain, too. But I don't let it keep me from seeing the good in another man I could love. If I lived my life with the fear of losing, I'd never love again. I refuse to live that way. I cannot—I will not—wrap my heart in a protective cocoon. If I can't love, I don't live. Will you be back this afternoon after Bobby's appointment?"

"No. The captain wants him to take it easy."

"Then I'll see you tomorrow."

Eames nodded. "One more thing—are you certain what you see cannot be changed?"

"No, Detective Eames. I'm not. I've never tried to change it, except for the time I tried to save that little boy. I always had a very hard time accepting this particular...ability, and every time I hoped I was wrong."

Marcy left the room and Eames sat down, fingering her partner's badge and struggling to bring her emotions under control. She stayed there until he came looking for her. "Eames?"

She drew in a deep breath and stood. Walking to him, she clipped the ID back to his jacket and smoothed her hand over his lapel. "We'd better get you to your appointment, Bobby."

Moving away, she stepped around him and left the room. He looked after her. Was he ever going to understand her? Part of him wanted to, but another part of him was excited by the mystery of her. He looked at his ID, still baffled, and followed her back into the squad room.


	9. Never Forget Your Backup

Eames finished the dinner dishes and went into the living room. Goren was stretched out on the couch, his casted arm across his chest and his left knee raised on a pillow. The doctor had expressed concern for his knee because it had not improved and, to Goren's annoyance, he wanted to see him back in three days. He changed his pain medication and told him to stay off the knee as much as possible. He turned his head toward her and gave her a smile. "Thanks for making dinner."

She returned his smile. "I was glad to do it. I'm going to head home. Give me your word that you'll stay put tomorrow so I don't have to listen to Ross."

"Eames, we have a case..."

"And I will be working on it tomorrow with your girlfriend."

He sighed heavily and let his head drop back onto the pillow she'd given him earlier. "She's not."

She chose not to address his protest. Not now, maybe, but soon, inevitably. "Good night, Bobby."

He let her get as far as the door. "Eames..." She turned and he continued, "Call me tomorrow?"

"I'll let you know what we find out."

That wasn't what he meant, but he didn't correct her. He just nodded and let his head fall back again. She sighed and closed the door.

As she left the building, she wondered, for the hundredth time, if she should tell him about Marcy's premonition. She didn't believe in psychic predictions but she had seen the power of suggestion at work. If she told him, would the mere suggestion of what might happen bring it to fruition? If she didn't tell him, would he walk into a situation unprepared for its possible outcome? As afraid as she was to face it, she was just as afraid to place any trust in the premonition. If she told him about it, would she be validating it? So she'd said nothing, although she knew he suspected something was bothering her. He always knew.

Goren stared at the ceiling. Eames had been distracted all day. He wanted to ask her about it, but she'd been so touchy lately. She would accuse him of prying, and he would protest concern. She wouldn't believe him and things would deteriorate from there. So he'd said nothing. But he knew that she sensed he was aware of her unrest. She always knew.

* * *

Eames arrived at the squad room ten minutes early the next morning, annoyed to find Marcy sitting at her partner's desk. The psychic looked up and offered a small, friendly smile. "Good morning, Detective Eames." 

"Hello, Miss Chambers."

She hung her jacket on a hook of the nearby coat rack and dropped her bag in the bottom drawer of her desk. When she sat down, Marcy asked, "How's Bobby?"

Eames looked up at her. "You haven't called him?"

"Not this morning, no."

"What makes you think I've called him? It's early."

"You care about him, and you called to see how he's feeling."

It made her uncomfortable to be read so easily, or known so well, by a stranger she didn't particularly like. She would not let herself like Marcy, and she wasn't sure why. She seemed to be a decent woman, kind and warm...a lot like her partner in many ways. Was it solely his attraction to Marcy that made Eames dislike her? She thought she'd gotten past the psychic issue, so that had to be it, and the thought of that made her feel bad about herself. She was being petty, but she couldn't help it.

She wanted to ask Marcy if she knew anything else about Bobby's fate, but something held her back. She wanted to know everything and nothing, all at the same time. Ignorance was bliss, after all. If she didn't know about it, she would have slept the past two nights. But knowledge was power, and if there was any way to save him, knowing what was coming would put her in the best situation to act in time.

Eames opened the file in front of her and the first thing she saw was her partner's handwriting. And she missed him, all of a sudden. "Excuse me for a minute, please," she said to Marcy, not really caring if she heard her or not.

But Marcy did hear, and as Eames stood, she said, "Tell him I said hello."

Eames stared at her for a moment, then walked away from the desks.

* * *

Goren leaned over and fumbled for the phone, which Eames had moved to the coffee table so he wouldn't have to get up to answer it. "Hello," he muttered into the receiver. 

_Did I wake you?_

"Um...it's okay. I had to get up anyway."

Her voice was soft and he could hear the smile in it. _Sure you did. How's your knee?_

"About the same." He looked at the time. "It's nine-thirty. How much better did you expect it to get in the last hour and a half?"

_I worry about you, sometimes. _

"Just sometimes?"

She laughed. _How do you feel?_

"Just tired." He ran his fingers through his hair. "How are things there?"

_All right. Your girlfriend said hello._

"Eames, she's not..."

_I know, I know. I'm just annoyed that she's here and you're not._

"I can change that."

_Don't you dare. You stay put, mister._ Her voice softened. _Stay off your knee. I'll come by after work. Any preferences for dinner?_

"Not really. Be careful, Eames."

_Don't worry. Bye._

He placed the receiver in its cradle and settled back on the couch, thinking about getting a cup of coffee. He drifted off before the thought became an action.

* * *

He was roused by a knock at the door around lunchtime. As he started to get up, the door opened and Marcy poked her head in. "Don't get up." She stepped into the apartment, smiling at him and carrying a pizza box. "Your partner said they gave you a stronger pain medication and it kind of knocks you on your butt." 

He smiled. "Kind of."

"She's bringing you dinner, so I thought I would bring you lunch."

He sat up to make room for her, swinging his leg over onto the coffee table. She set the pizza box beside his leg and flipped it open as she sat beside him. He reached out his hand and caressed the side of her face with the backs of his fingers, gently brushing her hair back behind her ear. She dipped her head down, chin toward her chest, and closed her eyes. He had a way of making her forget her resolve to steer him toward another. Seeking to distract him, she said, "Alex said you like mushroom and onion."

"She knows you're here?"

She nodded absently as his fingers caressed her neck. "She asked me to bring you lunch. She wanted to follow up on something and she'll fill you in later."

His hand stopped moving, to her combined relief and disappointment. "Follow up on what?"

Marcy's brow dipped into a slight frown, wondering why he was suddenly concerned. "She didn't say."

He sat up a little taller. "Did she say where she was going?"

"No."

He grabbed the phone and dialed her number. She answered on the third ring. _Bobby? Is everything okay?_

"Where are you?"

_Central Park. Why?_

"Who's backing you up?"

_What? I don't need back-up to grab a hot dog and take a walk in the park._

"What are you following up on?"

_It's nothing. Matt asked to see us this morning. He said he remembered something, but he wasn't making any sense. He was pretty well stoned--imagine that. He was carrying on about Belvedere Castle, so I figured I'd come by during lunch and look around. I don't need back up for that._

"What did he say about Belvedere Castle?"

Marcy sat up slowly, and her face paled. She shook her head. "Don't let her go there."

"Eames, stay put. I'm calling Logan to meet you there. Don't go to the castle."

_Goren, I am not going to..._

"Please..."

She was quiet for a moment, then she sighed impatiently. _Fifteen minutes. That's all I'll give him._

Logan could easily make Central Park in fifteen. "Thank you." He disconnected the call and dialed Logan's number, looking at Marcy as he dialed. "Why not?"

"I just have a bad feeling."

That was good enough for him. He slammed the phone down. "Logan doesn't answer. Let's go."

"Bobby, no.."

"Then stay here. She's not going to wait, and I'm not letting her check it out alone. Stay or come along, I'm going."

Her stomach churning, Marcy ran after him as he hurried out the door, moving a lot faster than he should on his injured knee. She couldn't persuade him to slow down, and she didn't blame him a bit for hurrying. There was no way this was going to turn out well, she feared. For any of them.

* * *

Eames looked at her watch. She'd given Logan twenty minutes to get there. It was ridiculous to think she needed a bodyguard in the middle of the day in a public place like Central Park. Goren was being his usual overprotective self. She started back down the path that led to the castle, not sure what she was looking for but hoping she would know it when she saw it. She didn't believe the rantings of a stoned teenager, and she blamed Marcy for Goren's panic. 

Marcy had to trot to keep up with Goren. "Bobby, you are really going to do some damage to that knee. Slow down."

He didn't slow down until he saw Eames ahead of them, starting to make her way along the path toward the castle. "Eames!"

Eames heard him, and she stopped and spun around. His limp was worse and as he approached, she could see the sheen of sweat that beaded across his forehead and rolled down his face. She hurried forward to meet him. "Dammit! What are you doing here, Goren? You should be home."

He shook his head. "You shouldn't be here without back up."

She glared at Marcy as she reached them and snapped, "Don't be stupid. What's going to happen here in the park in the middle of the day?"

"Eames..."

His answer was cut off by the sound of shattering glass and gunfire, coming from the direction of the castle. People were running in a panic away from the shots, while Goren and Eames took off toward them. Marcy hesitated for only a moment before she ran after them.


	10. Showdown

Staring across the courtyard toward the castle, the two detectives scanned the building to locate the source of the gunfire. Goren nudged his partner and pointed to the tower, where the barrel of a rifle poked out and went off four times. "He's in the tower."

He started forward, but his partner grabbed his arm. "No...you're not vested."

He looked at her. "Someone has to stop him. There are innocent people out there providing open targets for him...children..."

"We wait for backup, Goren," she began.

"And sacrifice how many lives? It's not worth it."

He shook off her arm and left the cover of the trees, heading for the castle. Eames started after him, hesitating when Marcy appeared beside her. "Is this it?"

"I don't know, detective."

"Stay here."

Eames took off after Goren. Marcy waited for a moment, then followed her.

* * *

Eames caught up to her limping partner in the shadow of the castle wall. "Let me guess...you have no plan." 

He shrugged. "We'll see how it goes."

"Are you armed?"

"Uh...no. I didn't grab my back up piece."

She reached down and pulled a pistol from her boot. "Don't lose it. It was Dad's."

He smiled at her. "I'll take care of it."

He turned his attention back to the castle as he eased his way along the wall and under an arch into the inner courtyard of the building, with Eames right behind him. A short distance away, Marcy followed them.

They heard the distant sirens as they slipped into the interior of the castle. Eames followed a few feet behind him as he limped toward the door across the small courtyard that led into the tower. He was four feet from the door when it swung open and he found himself staring down the barrel of a handgun. "Back up," growled the stocky man behind the gun.

Marcy ducked into the shadows of a doorway, out of sight, and watched. Eames had her gun leveled at the man's head, her heart in her throat, pounding mercilessly as she watched the man pointing his gun at her partner's head. She couldn't stop Marcy's prediction from running through her mind.

The man stepped away from the door, gun still trained at Goren's head. "Drop it, girly, or I'll blow his brains out."

Goren didn't take his eyes from the man. "No, Eames. Don't."

She was torn but ultimately, she listened to her partner. Whatever the suspect did to him, he was not going to walk away from the encounter. Her stomach churned and she felt sick, but she did not waver.

With a sneer, the suspect pulled the trigger. When the hammer fell on an empty chamber, Goren saw his only chance and he charged the man, tackling him. Eames started forward, looking for an opportunity to take out the suspect. Marcy also moved in closer. Eames glanced at her, frowning. "Stay back," she warned, annoyed that Marcy had not remained behind, like she'd told her..

But Marcy wasn't paying attention. She watched the struggle in horror, recalling images that had been flashing through her mind too quickly for her to identify. Now they were settling into clear focus, even as they played out before her, and they ended with Bobby laying on the ground, dying in his partner's arms. She could not allow that to happen. There _had_ to be some way to change the images of fate that had been placed in her head.

Goren out-sized and outweighed the man he was struggling with, but the man was compact and powerful. He slammed Goren into a wall, momentarily stunning the bigger man. It gave him the time he needed to thrust a hand into his jacket before Goren hit him again.

Both women saw the glint of steel in the suspect's hand and it arced through the air toward Goren. "Watch out, Bobby!" Eames yelled.

Goren moved to one side and, instead of burying itself deep in his back, the knife sliced open his side, a non-lethal wound. Dodging another thrust, he watched as the suspect scooped up the gun that had fallen from Goren's hand. Goren did not hesitate to rush the man as he turned the gun to bear on Eames. As Goren's body hit his, he pulled the trigger.

The man brought the butt of the gun down as they struggled and managed to deliver a glancing blow, stunning Goren enough for him to get away from him. He ran out of the castle into the park. Recovering quickly and ignoring the screaming protest of pain in his knee, Goren charged after him. Eames had been hit by the gunman's bullet, fired from her father's gun, and Marcy dropped to her side. "Alex?"

Eames struggled to her feet, ignoring the pain that screamed from her side, and she grabbed Marcy by both arms. "Stay here," she demanded before turning, hand pressed into her side, and running after her partner.

Goren had disarmed the man of Eames' gun and the knife, and he had the struggling suspect on the ground. Eames approached, pulling out her cuffs and holding them out to her partner. Goren noticed the blood that ran over her hand and he looked into her face with alarm. She shook her head, dismissing his concern.

Taking advantage of Goren's momentary distraction, the gunman used his powerful body to knock him off balance. As the big cop fell to the side, the gunman swung a kick at Eames, sweeping her leg out from under her and knocking her to the ground as well. A quick scramble and he once more had possession of both gun and knife. Rolling to his side, he fired two shots before the gun was again knocked from his hand. When he turned to see who had done it, no one was there. But he couldn't dismiss the developing bruise on his wrist and he swore, hefting his knife and scrambling the few feet toward the fallen cops.

With a sneer, he lunged toward the closest cop with a lethal thrust of his blade. If he was going to death row, he was going to make it worth the trip.

* * *

Eames released her hold on her injury to catch her fall, and she didn't miss the gush of warm blood that flowed from her side as she hit the ground. A wave of dizziness and nausea engulfed her and she had to take a moment to recover. 

The sound of hurried footsteps filled her ears as she slowly pushed herself to a sitting position. Guns drawn, the uniformed officers responding to the 'shots fired' call surrounded them. Indicating the shield on her belt, Eames pointed to the gunman, confused by the sight of his unmoving body and the rock beside his head. "He's your gunman," she said.

Then she saw the knife beside his hand, covered with blood and her mind registered the voice of a nearby officer, calling urgently for medical help; there were four people down. _Four?_

Her attention shifted to her fallen partner and she made her way to his side. Gently, she turned his face toward hers, alarmed by the trickle of blood leaking from a laceration in his temple. On closer examination, she realized it had been made by the trail of a bullet. She was reassured by the steady rise and fall of his chest, but her stomach flipped and she became nauseous at the thought of how close the bullet had come to taking his life.

She looked around again, remembering the officer's report: _Four down._ That was when she saw Marcy, laying a few feet away from them with two officers working on her as they waited for the paramedics. She left Goren's side and, bracing her hand against her injury again, went to Marcy.

Marcy's shirt was bloody and one of the men held his hands firmly against her abdomen, Her breathing was shallow and she was pale. She knelt beside Marcy's head, brushing the hair back from her face, surprised when her eyes fluttered and opened. She smiled at Eames. "Forgive me...for not listening. This...this was it, Alex. He...went after Bobby...with his knife...but I...kind of got in...in the way."

"Did you clobber him with that rock?"

Marcy nodded. "I couldn't let him...get away."

She grimaced and tried to move. The officer pressing his hands against her wound gently hushed her and begged her to stay still. Eames didn't like the near panic in his tone. "Marcy..."

Marcy shook her head, closing her hand around Eames' arm. "I have...your answer, Alex. My...my premonitions...can be changed...I-I changed...this one..."

Eames found herself gently ushered away from Marcy's side as the paramedics arrived. Two of them began to work on Marcy while another guided her away. She didn't take her eyes from Marcy, watching as they started an IV and gently lifted her onto a stretcher. They ran down the path toward the waiting rigs.

Eames shifted her attention toward her unconscious partner. A paramedic was working on him as well, but not with the frantic motions of the other two. She watched him set up the IV in Goren's arm before her attention was drawn from him by another paramedic at her side, gently easing her onto the ground. "Let me look at your side," he encouraged.

She moved her hand away, felt another warm gush of blood and the paramedic's hands gently eased her back to the ground as everything around her went black.


	11. Universal Injustice

Danny Ross exploded into the emergency room, casting his eyes left and right as he searched for someone who might know what was going on. Challenged by a nurse as to his right to be there, he pulled out his badge. "Captain Danny Ross...two of my detectives were brought in from Central Park tonight. Detectives Goren and Eames."

The nurse nodded, familiar with both cases. "They are both in surgery, captain. So is the woman they believe was with them."

Ross looked confused for a moment. "Woman? What woman?"

"Um...Chandler...or Chauncey...something like that."

"Chambers? Marcy Chambers?"

"Yes, that's it.."

He pressed the heel of his right hand against his temple in a futile attempt to stave off the headache building behind his eyes. "Can you tell me their conditions?"

"I'm sorry, captain. They were not my patients. The only thing I can tell you is that they were sent up very quickly. At least one of them was critical, but I couldn't say who. The surgical waiting room is on the second floor..."

"Yes, yes...I know where it is." He started off, adding a quick 'thank you' as an after thought.

* * *

Ross paced the surgical waiting room, wondering why the hell Marcy Chambers had been anywhere near the site of a shooting. Even if she was working with Goren and Eames, she was still a civilian. Eames, in particular, should know better. Then he wondered why Goren had been there and not home, where he was supposed to be. That left Eames, who was heading off for lunch the last he knew. He hated being out of the loop more than anything, and Eames knew that. 

He was surprised when Mike Logan came into the room twenty minutes later. "What happened?" he asked, concern etched in his face. "I missed a call from Goren and when I get back to the squad they tell me he's been involved in a shooting. I thought he was on sick leave."

"He was. Do you know _anything _about this, Logan?"

"Not a thing, Cap. When I talked to Goren this morning, he had no intention of going anyplace."

Ross studied him for a moment, decided he was honestly baffled, and then resumed his pacing. And they waited.

* * *

The first news they got was about Eames. The bullet passed cleanly through her side. Although blood loss complicated matters initially, she stabilized and would recover completely. Her surgeon promised to find out about Goren and Chambers and send out word. 

A nurse brought them news about Goren a half hour later. After finding a bullet hole in his cast, they found a bullet lodged near the bone in his forearm. So they removed the cast and the bullet, setting a half-cast splint in place so the swelling could go down and they could put on a new cast. A bullet had also grazed his head, but the problem causing them the most time and concern was his knee. They would have to get back to Ross on that one.

Finally, a surgeon came to speak to them about Marcy. No one had been able to tell him exactly what had happened, but she had received a knife blade in her upper right abdomen. The knife had sliced through both her liver and her spleen. The surgeons had immediately removed the severely damaged spleen to help minimize her blood loss before turning their efforts to saving her liver. A person can live with no spleen. No one can survive without a liver. The damage, however, had been too much. In spite of all their efforts, they lost her on the operating table, six hours into a surgery they should never have tried but had to.

Logan sat heavily at the news. "Aw, man..."

Ross looked at him, curious. Did he want to get into the reasons for his dismay with Ross? Absolutely not. Both Goren and Eames would tear him apart. He knew that Eames was past the psychic issue. What she couldn't get past was the fact that Goren really liked Marcy. Even he could see it, as dense as he could sometimes be. Whether or not his friend had ever acted on his attraction, he had no idea, but this one was going to be a hard loss for him.

"Do you know something I don't know, Logan?"

_I know lots of things you don't know,_ he thought to himself. But to Ross he simply shook his head. "She was a really nice person, cap. We all liked her. It's going to be a bitter pill to swallow for all of us."

Ross nodded. He understood that. He, too, had liked Marcy. "I want to know what she was doing there. She should never have been at the scene of a shooting."

Logan looked at his hands. "Have you ever tried to tell a woman what to do, Captain? I mean, one you have no authority over?"

"I want you to piece it all together, detective. Find out what happened and give me a full report as soon as you can get the information. By the time the locals got there, it was over. The details will have to come from Goren and Eames."

"Has anyone called Eames' family?"

"I don't think so. Do you need the numbers?"

"No. I just need her phone or his. If I can get in touch with her dad or her sister, they'll handle the rest."

"And what about Goren?"

"You know he's got nobody, captain. Nobody, but Eames. I think she already knows he's hurt."

Ross frowned. "What about his brother?"

Logan shook his head. "He wants nothing to do with his brother, and no one knows where to find him, besides."

"Try. Legally, the brother is his next of kin. I'll get you their personal effects. You can be responsible for them."

Logan watched the captain walk away. Even if he could locate Frank, Goren would kill him for doing it. As far as Goren was concerned, he had no next of kin, aside from his partner. He had changed all his paperwork after his mother's death to reflect that. If anything ever happened to him, Eames was his sole beneficiary.

After Ross brought him their phones, badges, and other personal items, Logan thumbed through the contact list on Eames' phone until he found her father's number, which he dialed into his own phone and called. He informed the retired cop of his daughter's injury and the positive outcome of her surgery. John Eames' relief did not surprise him, but what came after did. He asked about Goren. Logan told him what he knew, adding that he was still in surgery. He promised John he would still be there when he arrived and ended the call. It wasn't like he had anywhere else to be tonight anyway. He'd canceled his date when he'd gotten word of an officer involved shooting in the park. The missed call from Goren and his failure to answer his callback gave him a bad feeling.

Once Goren was out of surgery and Logan was assured he had not suffered a career-ending injury, he sought out information about the gunman, knowing Goren would ask. The man who took Marcy's life would live. Not for the first time, Logan reflected on the universal injustice of life, knowing that what he saw as a travesty, Goren would take as another blow in a series of hits life had dealt him lately. He found himself wishing there was some way to spare him, but there wasn't. Eames, he knew, would also worry, if only because she cared deeply about her partner and knew how he was.

He found out the room Eames had been transferred to, relieved that Goren's room would be nearby, and he went to wait for her to waken, a harbinger of ill tidings. Sometimes, life really sucked.

* * *

When Eames woke, the first person she saw at her bedside was her father. The second person was Logan, and his presence there, instead of her partner, made her already sore gut tighten. Both men greeted her with soft affection, and she voiced her biggest concern with a single word. "Bobby?" 

Logan said, "He's going to be okay. They transferred him up here about a half hour ago. He's two doors down and he hasn't fully woken yet. I've been checking on him."

She moistened her lips. "How badly was he hurt?"

"He's not so bad. His knee was the worst of it."

But Eames wasn't stupid. She heard the hesitancy in his voice. "What?" Then it dawned on her. "Marcy? How is she?"

Logan looked at John before he returned his attention to Eames. "Um...she didn't make out as well, Alex."

"No...tell me she's going to be all right."

Logan shook his head. "I can't do that, sweetheart."

"Oh, my God...no...Mike..."

"She died in the operating room, Alex."

Eames closed her eyes as tears filled them and Marcy's last words came back to her. _I changed this one._

Her premonitions could be changed...but someone had to die. Whether she meant to or not, Marcy had died in Goren's place. This loss would be hard enough for her partner to take. There was no way she was going to tell him exactly why Marcy had died. He accepted guilt far too readily. She still didn't know if she put any stock in psychic premonitions, but Marcy had believed it. And given time to deal with her jealousy, Eames was certain she would have come to truly like her. Now that chance had been taken from her, and she regretted its passing, even knowing what it meant for her relationship with her partner: one more obstacle in a recent series of obstacles they had so far managed to navigate successfully. This one, though, could have meant happiness for him, and she would be petty to begrudge him that.

She looked at her father and then at Logan. "I have to be the one to tell him," she said.

"That works for me," Logan agreed. "I wasn't looking forward to that conversation."

"Go check on him, Mike. I want to know when he's awake."

He recognized the determination in her face, and he chose not to argue. Once he was gone from the room, John addressed his daughter. "Alex, you need to take it easy."

She rested back against the pillows and sighed heavily. "Dad, he can't hear about this from anyone but me. Bobby isn't stupid. He'll figure it out on his own if everyone avoids answering his questions."

"It will be even worse if you cause more problems for yourself by trying to do too much."

"I don't want to do anything but visit my partner. If they want to take me in a wheelchair, fine. But I have to see him."

John knew well how stubborn his daughter was. He consented with a sigh. "We'll get you over to see him. But then I want you to take it easy. Deal?"

Reluctantly she nodded. Her emotions were in a turmoil, and she wasn't sure how to sort through them. She had to talk to Goren.

Logan returned and informed her, "He's out of it, Alex. They don't expect him to come around until sometime tomorrow, so get your rest."

"Will you stay with him, Mike, and let me know when they let him wake up? Please."

"Sure."

Logan sighed and resigned himself to a long, uncomfortable night in a hospital bedside chair. He began to consider the ways Goren could repay him. He was such a sucker for a please from a pretty woman.

* * *

When Goren woke, he was first aware of a deep, burning pain in his knee that was close to overwhelming, and he groaned deeply. He felt a powerful urge to move his knee and when he did, the pain intensified almost to the point of making him vomit. In addition to the pain in his knee, he also had to cope with a pounding headache and a dull throb in his arm. Gradually and with great effort, he got past the pain, and he looked around the room for his partner. He was surprised, instead, to find Logan at his bedside, wanting to help but not knowing what he could do. "Mike..." he said softly, his voice hoarse from the breathing tube that had been in place through the prolonged surgery. 

Logan stretched his stiff back as he stood up. "Hey, pal. How are you feeling?"

"Like hell."

"I imagine. Is there anything I can get you?"

Goren nodded. "Eames."

_Of course,_ Logan thought with a smile. "She's two rooms down the hall. Do you feel up for another visitor?"

"Her? Anytime."

"I knew that's what you'd say. Hang tight and I'll get her in here."

He grabbed Logan's arm. "What about Marcy? Where is she?"

Logan looked away. "I'll find out for you, okay? Do you want me to get a nurse in here?"

He nodded. "That...would be a good idea, thanks."

"You got it. I'll be right back."

Goren wondered at Logan's evasiveness. He wasn't one to avoid a subject. But he was in too much pain to give it much thought, so he settled back and waited for Eames.

Logan's first destination was the nurses' station. "Hey, whoever's taking care of Goren...he's awake and he's in a lot of pain."

One of the nurses nodded at him. "I'll be right in."

"Good. While you're at it, his partner wants to see him."

"Oh, I don't know about getting her up just yet..."

"Well, either you people are going to take care of it, or she's going to get up on her own and take care of it herself. Your choice. You've got ten minutes, tops, to make your decision or you'll be chasing her down the hall."

A few minutes later, a nurse entered Eames' room with a wheelchair. "I called your doctor and he said if you can tolerate it, we can take you to visit your partner, but he wants you to make it brief, for both of your sakes. Rest is the best thing for you. Remember, you are only 18 hours out from a serious operation."

Reluctantly, Eames consented. She let the nurse and her father help her from the bed into the wheelchair. John laid a folded blanket across her lap. She kissed his cheek, glad he had returned that morning after breakfast. "Thanks, Dad."

"I'll wait here for you, sweetheart."

The nurse pushed her into the hall, where Logan was waiting outside Goren's room. He said to the nurse, "His pain is getting worse. I'll take her in if you can get him something to make him more comfortable."

She looked at him for a moment before she finally let him take the wheelchair. She walked off down the hall. Logan grumbled under his breath, and Eames looked up at him. "Why are you in the hall?"

"Because he wants to know where Marcy is and I suck at lying to him. Don't ask me why. I just can't lie to him."

She gave him a tired smile. "Thank you, Mike."

"Are you sure you're up to this?"

She wasn't sure because she knew how draining interacting with her partner could be. She felt badly for hoping his post-operative condition would key down his intensity. She knew that she couldn't delay telling him what had happened. Besides, she needed to see him, to judge for herself his condition and state of mind. "I have to see him."

Logan understood. "Prepare yourself, Alex. He is in a hell of a lot of pain."

He pushed her into the room. Her first impression was that he had not been exaggerating. She could read the tension in his body as clearly as she could see the pain in his eyes when he looked at her. Logan maneuvered her as close to the bed as he could get her. She reached out her hand and he grasped it without hesitating. "Are...you all right?" he asked., his concern for her most prominent.

"I'm going to be fine. It was a clean wound. It hurts, but it could have been a lot worse. They told me you did a number to that knee."

He shrugged. "It will heal."

"If you let it. You need to listen to the doctors, Bobby."

"Have you..."

He paused and closed his eyes, groaning. His face was a mask of pain and his grip tightened on her hand, reflexively. She squeezed hid hand in response and waited for him to get a handle on the pain again. It took a few minutes.

Logan swore under his breath. "I'll go find that damn nurse."

He stormed from the room, determined. Eames allowed herself a small smile as she watched him leave. Then she turned her attention back to Goren. "Hang in there," she said softly, lightly caressing his arm.

He took a few deep breaths, then coughed. "I'm sorry..."

"Don't apologize. Joint surgery is very painful."

"Tell me about it. Eames, have you heard...anything...about Marcy?"

There was no sense delaying the inevitable. She nodded. "Yes. I heard."

With a frown, he searched her face. "What?"

She tightened her grip again as he moved in the bed, flaring the pain in his knee and driving him back into the pillows. He struggled for another minute, then managed, "Tell me."

She took a deep breath, gently stroking his hand. "He got her...with that knife...and they lost her, Bobby. She died in surgery."

He got very still. Eames became concerned, leaning closer and moving her hand to caress his abdomen. "I'm so sorry." When he didn't answer, she quietly begged, "Talk to me."

"Sh-she was there...because I wasn't able to drive..."

"Don't. Bobby, she should have listened to me and stayed by the castle. It was her choice to follow us, to place herself in danger. No one else made that choice for her. It was all on her."

The door opened and Logan returned with a nurse in tow. He immediately knew that Eames had told him. When Goren looked at him, he said, "I'm so sorry."

"You didn't want to tell me..."

"I promised Alex I wouldn't."

Eames continued to rub his abdomen.. "The news had to come from me, Bobby."

He met her eyes and held them until the nurse stepped into his line of vision with a soft apology. She cleaned a port on his IV line and slowly injected the contents of a syringe into the line. She said, "Give it a minute. This is strong stuff. This afternoon, you can start to take fluids and we'll see about getting you up tonight or tomorrow morning."

By the time she was done talking and stepped away from his side, he could feel the medicine begin to take hold. The pain retreated. He looked back at his partner. She watched the focus fade from his eyes and she reached forward to caress his cheek. "You need to let this one go, Bobby. She made a choice, and she knew what she was doing."

He held her gaze as he struggled against the medicine's sedating effects, but he didn't last long. His eyes slowly slid closed and he relaxed. Eames sighed and leaned back with a soft groan. "This is going to be a hard one for him, Mike."

He stepped up behind her. "They did seem to have a connection." He gently pulled the chair back from the bed. "Let's get you back to your room. I can stay in here with him, if you want."

"Let me know when he wakes up?"

"Sure, but these nurses aren't gonna like shuttling you back and forth. You need to rest and recover. Whatever comes of his grief, you'll have time to address it."

She knew he was right, but she also knew that with Goren, sooner was better than later. Back in her room, Logan stepped away and looked out the window as John and a nurse helped her back into bed. The nurse gave her a dose of painkiller and left after checking her vitals. Logan turned back from the window. John asked, "How did he take it?"

Eames answered, "I don't know yet. He needs time. I think that when it finally hits him, it's going to hit him hard."

"And I'll be in here post haste to get you in there," Logan promised, not particularly wanting to deal with his friend in that state.

Eames nodded, knowing she would be the one he needed to turn to when he dealt with his grief. She fully intended to share hers with him as well, as much as it surprised her that she felt the way she did. Right now, though, the medicine was catching up with her, and she slept.


	12. I Didn't Mean For You to See It

The nurse had just given her a dose of painkiller and she was drifting in the twilight between sleep and wakefulness. She sensed she was not alone in the room, and her eyes searched the shadows. In the corner of the room near the window, the shadows coalesced into a familiar form, and Marcy approached her bed.

The pretty psychic smiled at her, and she could see an inner beauty that had escaped her attention before. Marcy sat on the edge of the bed and Eames could swear she was really there, in form with substance. She could feel the hand that rested on her arm. "You wanted to know if my visions could be changed, Alex. Until now, I wasn't sure they could. But I changed this one. Someone had to die but I couldn't bear to lose him. So I went in his place. It all worked out." She closed her eyes for a minute. When she opened them, Alex could swear she saw tears there. "He's a tender, sensitive man, Alex, and whether he realizes it or not, he loves you. I know he was attracted to me..." She placed a hand on her chest. "...and I am flattered, but I was not what he seeks, and he would have realized that eventually." A soft smile flickered across her face. "It's impossible not to respond to his intensity." Warm gray eyes bored into her. "I know how you feel, Alex. I could see it in your eyes when you thought no one was looking, and I could feel it in you. Let him see it. You will never regret loving him."

Eames' eyes drifted closed, and when she jerked awake, she was alone in the room. Had it been a dream? It must have been. But how true were the words Marcy had spoken in that dream? She agreed that it was impossible not to respond to Goren's intensity. But love? Her eyes drifted closed again.

* * *

It was well-documented in his service file that Goren had difficulty with authority. Independent and strong-willed, he simply preferred to do things his own way. If he didn't like the way things were being done, he changed them to suit his own agenda. And most of the time he was right. But he never gloated over that fact. He just plowed on to the next task. He didn't have time for 'I told you so's.' He dealt with medical staff in the same manner. 

Eames should not have been surprised when her door opened and her partner came into the room. She was at least glad he was using the crutches they wanted him to use. But he was bored and restless, annoyed with his body for not keeping with the program and holding him back. "What are you doing in here?" she scolded, but there was no heat in her tone and he knew she was glad to see him.

"I wanted to see you," he answered simply.

"And when the nurses find you out of bed?"

He shrugged. "They'll know where to find me."

"Goren..."

He smiled. "Eames."

He eased himself into the chair beside her bed, propping his leg up on a pillow in a second chair. The nurses had found him there during the night, sleeping in that same chair. They were finding it impossible to keep him in one place. Always, he sought out Eames. "How are you feeling today?" he asked.

"Better," she answered. "They're going to graduate me to soft foods today. Maybe three more days and I'll be ready to go home. They'll be getting me up to walk soon."

"I'll walk with you."

"You shouldn't be up so much." she scolded.

"If I don't get up, how am I going to heal?"

"If you get up too much, you won't heal."

He reached out and grasped her hand. "I will heal better here than I will in my room, I promise."

She tightened her fingers around his hand and turned gingerly onto her side to look at him. He had said nothing about Marcy's death, and she wondered what was going on in his head. She wondered how muddled his mind had been when she'd told him and if he even remembered the conversation clearly. Just because he had appeared coherent did not necessarily mean he was. Bobby used a multitude of coping mechanisms to get him through life. "We need to talk," she said softly.

His eyes searched her face. "About what?"

"About what happened in the park three days ago."

His hand strayed absently to the wound on his head. The laceration was healing nicely, but there was still extensive bruising that caused him discomfort. He knew how lucky he was. He closed his eyes.

Eames tightened her grip on him and reached out with her other hand. When she touched his cheek, he leaned into her hand. She was encouraged by the fact that he was neither withdrawing nor pushing her away.

She withdrew her hand and turned onto her back when the door opened. He leaned back in the chair and let her retreat. One of the nurses came into the room and stood there with her hands on her hips. "I think I'll give up looking for you in your own room, Robert."

He shrugged. "I like this room better."

Eames stifled a laugh which triggered a half smile on his face. The nurse was not amused. "Back to your room, buddy."

"Come on. What difference does it make if I sit in there or if I sit in here? You know where I am."

She stared at the bandage on his right arm. "Where is your IV?"

"Right where I left it."

"Bobby!" Eames hissed.

"What? I'm eating fine and I can take anything I need by mouth. Besides, I can't get around tied to a machine."

"That's the point," the nurse snapped.

"All right then. Either I ditch the machine or the crutches. Which would you prefer?"

She glared at him. "Your doctor will be in to talk to you."

"I'll be right here," he promised, smiling at her.

Some of the hard anger left her face at that smile as she turned and left the room. Once the nurse was gone, Eames smacked him. "You took out your IV?"

"It was bothering me."

"Bobby..."

The door opened again. This time it was one of the doctors standing beneath the television, arms crossed. But the look on his face wasn't nearly as annoyed as the one the nurse had worn. "Are you ready to go home, son?"

"More than ready," Goren admitted.

"Think you can handle the pain on oral medication?"

"I'll manage, yes."

The doctor motioned to him. "Come with me. Let me examine you and we'll discuss it. Then you can come back in to visit her."

Goren looked at her as he stood and grabbed his crutches. "I'll be right back."

She smiled at him. "I'll be waiting right here."

His mouth curved into a smile and he followed the doctor from the room. Twenty minutes later, he returned, pain etched clearly on his face. He dropped the crutches, sitting heavily in the chair, bracing his elbow on the armrest and propping his temple on his fingers.

She reached toward him, touching his other hand. He moved his hand to close it around her fingers; his mouth set in a grim line. She remained where she was, laying on her side and holding his hand, while he fought against the pain.

The same nurse returned to the room, holding out a medicine cup with two pills in it and a cup of water. He released his partner's hand and looked at the nurse, accepting the medicine. She waited while he took it, then looked at Eames. "Do you need anything?"

Eames shook her head. "I think my gut is doing better than his knee."

"Painwise? It is." She rested her hand on his head in a maternal fashion. "Let me know when you're ready to go back to your room. That medicine is likely to knock you for a loop."

He nodded and she left the room. Finally he looked at Eames. "They're releasing me tomorrow."

"Good. Maybe then the nurses won't look so harried."

He was quiet for a moment. "You wanted to talk...about the park."

"Maybe now isn't the best time..."

"You wanted to talk..." he interrupted gently. "...about Marcy."

It was spooky sometimes the way he could read her, understand what she was thinking, predict her motivation. "Yes, I did."

She needed to know what he was feeling, but she knew better than to share everything she knew. Marcy had died in his place, and she knew exactly what that would do to him. It was something she would take to her grave. But not knowing did not mean he would bear her death lightly.

She took his hand again, stroking it lightly with her thumb. "You haven't really said anything since I told you."

He looked at her hand, resting in his, her thumb making gentle circles around his. He shook his head slowly. "No. I haven't."

"But you've been thinking about her."

He nodded, still looking at their hands. Quietly, he asked the question that had been on his mind. "Do you know...what happened?"

"No. But Logan and Wheeler have been talking to witnesses, trying to piece it all together."

He leaned back in the chair and looked at the ceiling, but he left his hand in hers. "I should have...left her at the apartment. I could have managed...driving..."

"Bobby...please...that line of thought will get you nowhere. And you know she would never have stayed. I warned her to stay back several times. What happened...was no one's fault...no one's but his..."

"That doesn't change what happened."

This was just running them around in circles, getting them nowhere. She tightened her grip on his hand. "What happened is done. We can't change it. What does matter is you and what's going on in that head of yours. I'm worried about you, Bobby."

He shook his head, loosening his grip on her hand. "Don't bother, Eames. I'm fine."

She shifted her hand, threading her fingers into his. She was not willing to break physical contact with him and she did not want him to withdraw from her, as was his tendency. She had to lead him into this conversation. He wasn't willing to find his own way into it. "Just...how close to her were you?"

He became tense. "I never slept with her, if that's what you mean."

She wasn't certain about his tone or about her own reaction to what he said. Her cheeks flushed, but whether it was from embarrassment or guilt, she wasn't certain. "It's not," she insisted, but that was only half-true. She searched herself for her true motivation. If he had slept with her, his connection, and his grief, would be much deeper. But that only made her wonder why he hadn't, if it had been by choice or through lack of opportunity.

His eyes searched her face. "Then what?"

She let a slurry of words tumble through her head, searching for the right ones to explain herself to her partner. She sensed he knew what she meant, but he wanted to hear her say it. "Bobby," she said softly. "I don't know how close you were to Marcy. But I could see...your attraction to her. I could see that you wanted to be closer to her. And I know how sensitive you are, how much this...murder might affect you. I just want to help. This was not, in any way, your fault."

He drew his eyes from her face, focusing again on their hands. On an impulse, she drew his hand closer and softly kissed his fingers. His eyes snapped up to her face, catching her eyes, confused by the heat he saw in them. "Eames?"

She looked away, allowing him to withdraw his hand. She had not meant for him to catch her eyes. What a mistake that had been...

"Eames..."

She shook her head. "I have to know that you're okay, Bobby."

Okay? He was confused as hell. How had a conversation about Marcy's murder led to confusion over what he thought he saw in Eames' eyes? He had to have been mistaken. The medicine...that was it...he was mistaken. But why would he have imagined seeing the heat of desire in _her _eyes...of all people... "I, uh, I think I should lay down..."

"What's wrong?"

"Just, um, feeling a little dizzy..."

"Stay where you are." She sat up and carefully slid out of the bed. "Why don't you lay down here?"

He arched an eyebrow. "Eames..."

"I'm fine, really," she insisted. "It's time for me to get up and walk anyway."

Reaching forward, she took his arm and gave him a gentle tug. "Come on. I'll be out of the room for an hour or so."

He got to his feet unsteadily, his protest lost when she stepped up and guided him to the bed. He grunted when he put a little weight on his knee and it gave way. She caught him and coaxed him onto the bed, pulling the sheet and blanket over him. She watched him struggle and lose the fight to keep his eyes open. Continuing to hold his hand, she watched him sleep. Leaning down, she kissed his temple."I didn't mean for you to see it," she whispered, using his own words to apologize as he slept. The last thing she wanted him to see at this point was passion for him in her eyes.


	13. Uneasy Separation

Goren was glad to be home, but he hated that Eames would have to remain in the hospital for another day or so. He was glad she was doing better than they anticipated, but truthfully, he missed her. Since he forced himself to be mobile, he guessed that was why his doctor decided to send him home. Being hospitalized was of no benefit to him. The fact that he charmed the nurses did not change the fact that he was a difficult patient. Besides, together both he and Eames were driving the hospital staff nuts. He was leading his by-the-book partner astray, to her father's delight.

He never seemed to be in his room. If he was awake, he was with Eames. Then he began coaxing her to get out of bed, and they would wander. Goren loved to explore, and he took his partner exploring with him. The nurses found them in the gift shop, in the surgical observation suite, outside the nursery and, more than once, in the playroom on the pediatric floor. Goren liked telling the children stories while Eames enjoyed sing-a-longs. Goren taught them a song in German that he refused to translate for her. He loved Play-Doh, Legos and jigsaw puzzles and Eames played along, delighted to see her partner revel in making the children laugh. For a little while, the kids were able to forget that they were sick.

Now he was home with strict orders to avoid bearing weight on his knee, at least until his first follow-up appointment the next week, but he always had to test the limits of his own endurance. He began trying to bear weight the afternoon he got home. He was bored; what else was he going to do? The sharp increase in pain made him question the wisdom of disobeying the doctors, but a double dose of painkiller put his doubts to rest.

He spent a little more time testing out his knee, then laid down on the couch and slept. The phone woke him. The apartment was dark and he was disoriented as he fumbled for the phone. "Yeah," he muttered into the receiver. "Uh, Goren."

_I'm sorry,_ came Eames' voice. _I didn't mean to wake you up._

He sat up slowly, his head still a little fuzzy. "No, it's all right. How are you doing?"

_I'm bored,_ she admitted. _My playmate went home this morning._

He laughed softly. "Want me to come back?"

_No. They might release me tomorrow afternoon. Have you had dinner?_

He looked around the room, searching in the dark for an illuminated timepiece before he realized he wasn't in his bedroom. "What time is it?"

_Almost seven._

"Oh. No, I fell asleep sometime around two, I think." He leaned back on the couch and moistened his lips. "I hate this," he grumbled.

Her voice was soft. _What did you do?_

"Do? Nothing. Why?"

She softly sighed. _Have you been trying to bear weight on that knee?_

Did she really know him that well? "Uh...I..." he trailed off with a huff and scrubbed a hand over his face.

_Just stay put, all right? I'll call Logan and ask him to bring you some dinner._

His voice betrayed his annoyance. "I don't need a babysitter."

_No, Bobby. You need a friend. I'll call you later._

The line went silent and he closed the phone. As a compromise to his partner, he used one crutch to get around, so he wasn't bearing his full weight on his knee. Either way, he wasn't able to get around as quickly as he wanted, and he felt his patience with himself wearing thin. He grabbed a glass of water, swallowed another dose of pain medicine and made his way down the hall to the bathroom. After a quick shower, he turned on the light in the corner of the living room and sat on the couch to rebandage his knee. He was almost done when a cop's knock sounded through the room. "It's open."

Logan came into the apartment carrying a paper bag. His eyes immediately scanned the room, noting the pair of crutches leaning against the couch and Goren's leg propped up on the coffee table. His eyes shifted to his friend, wearing cut-off jeans and no shirt. His eyes were drawn to the sutured laceration that ran down his side, but it looked like it was healing well. He looked again at Goren's knee. "A little bird told me you haven't been behaving."

Goren grinned. "I'm fine."

Logan set the bag on the coffee table and sat beside him. "She's trying to talk them into letting her out tomorrow. Apparently, she doesn't like you recovering all on your own."

"She's just bored."

"Yeah, I'm sure that's all it is. What about you?"

"I'm bored, too."

Logan laughed. "That's never a good thing." He pulled the paper bag closer. "Your partner suggested I bring you comfort food. Meatloaf or pot roast?"

Goren's mouth turned up in a smile of soft affection for his partner. "Uh, pot roast is fine."

Logan pulled out a take-out box, checked the contents and set it aside. He handed the second container to Goren and studied him. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm doing all right, Mike."

"Using those crutches like you're supposed to?"

Goren looked at the crutches and shrugged. "I'm using them."

"For what? Stickball?"

Goren smiled. "Not yet, but thanks for the idea."

"Just don't tell Alex I was the one who gave it to you," he said with a laugh.

Goren started to get up. "I can make coffee..."

Logan grabbed him by the waistband of his jeans and yanked him back down. "Oh, no. I know my way around a coffee pot. I'll make the coffee."

Goren gave him a funny look and Logan waved a hand at him. "Don't start. You may not have any fear of your partner, but I know she won't hesitate to kick my ass if I let you get hurt on my watch."

Goren watched him walk into the kitchen. "On your...watch?"

"She doesn't trust you to behave. Does she have reason to be suspicious?"

"Well, uh, maybe..."

"Okay, then." He bustled about making fresh coffee. He looked at the prescription bottle on the counter and rattled the bottle. "Are you taking this stuff?"

"I don't have a lot of choice."

He set the bottle back on the counter. "It hurts that much, huh?"

"I guess."

"When was your last dose?"

Goren scratched his head. "Uh, before I got in the shower."

Since his hair was still damp, Logan knew he wasn't due for another dose. He poured two cups of coffee, black for him, cream for Goren, and carried them into the living room. "Mind if I crash on the couch?"

Goren raised an eyebrow in suspicion. "Why would you do that?"

"I thought we made it clear that I don't particularly want to have my ass kicked by your partner."

He took his coffee from Logan and smiled. "She told you to spend the night?"

"In so many words, yeah. And if you have any feeling of friendship for me at all, you'll use those crutches the way they intended you to while I'm here."

Logan grabbed the remote and switched on the television. Goren took the remote from him and switched it off. "Before you get engrossed in something...what have you found out about Marcy's death?"

Logan had been hoping he wouldn't bring that up, even though he knew better. "We're still investigating."

"Don't bullshit me, Mike."

"I'm not. We are still investigating. We've talked to a handful of witnesses, and we have some more to talk to."

Goren studied him. "You have an idea of what went down. I want to know what happened to Marcy."

"Why, Bobby? What purpose could it possibly serve? What I know for certain is that she took the guy out with a rock before he could take out you and Alex. I'm not sure exactly when or how he got her with the knife. That part of it is still confused. But she saved you both. Leave it at that, pal. Please. Anything else we find is not going to change a thing."

Logan held out his hand for the remote, and Goren studied him for a moment. Then he set the remote back in Logan's hand. As Logan channel-surfed, Goren picked at his food. Logan let him be for the moment. He had a feeling Eames would be calling soon. "Oooh, look," he said with a laugh. "Cindy does Detroit...and Toledo...and Phoenix..."

Goren couldn't help laughing with him. Logan dropped the remote between them, glad that Goren made no attempt to grab it. He finished his dinner, hoping his injured friend would be distracted enough to finish his. When the phone rang, he muted the sound as Goren grabbed the phone. "Goren."

_You sound better._

He smiled. "Yes and no."

_Is Logan there?_

"Yes."

_And you're eating dinner?_

"Yes, Eames."

She was quiet for a moment. _Don't get mad because I care._

His mind recalled the heat he thought he saw in her eyes. At the time, he thought he was mistaken, but the more he thought about it, the less certain he was that it had been his imagination. He moistened his lips. "I'm not mad. I...don't like you being where you are."

_Tomorrow, partner. I'll see you sometime tomorrow...promise._

"Who's picking you up?"

_Dad. I'll have him drop me off there, if that's all right with you._

"It's fine with me. I mean, if you...uh, I..." He sighed, his eyes straying absently toward the television, then away. "Yes. I would like that."

He could hear the smile in her voice when she replied, _I'll see you tomorrow then. Sleep well, Bobby._

"Good night, Eames."

He closed the phone and Logan unmuted the television, pointing to the screen with the remote. "Is that even physically possible?"

Goren laughed and studied the screen. "I don't know. You'll have to find out and let me know."

With another laugh, Logan set down the remote and stretched out his legs, folding his arms behind his head.

* * *

Goren tossed restlessly in his sleep, ultimately yielding to pain and troubled dreams. His normal routine was to get up and watch television or read to try to unwind. He rarely returned to sleep before it was time to head in to work. On nights he didn't have to work, he would usually have a few drinks until he was able to sleep again. Sometimes it worked; sometimes it didn't. 

He got out of bed and, using a single crutch, made his way to the kitchen. Alcohol wasn't an option for him at the moment, but the pain medicine they gave him usually did the job. He swallowed two pills, made himself some toast and went back to the bedroom, pausing to watch Logan snore on the couch. He smiled. Logan had proven himself a loyal friend. He didn't have too many of those. He returned to the bedroom, switched on the bedside light and pulled out a book from the drawer in the nightstand. Within the hour, he was sleeping again.

When he woke again, Logan was gone. He fixed a light breakfast and sat on the couch. His plan was to try to get through the day without taking any pain medicine. He wasn't sure how successful he would be, but he was going to try. He really did want to be clear-headed when Eames got there. He was still troubled by what he thought he had seen in her eyes, vacillating between believing it had been there and convincing himself that he was wrong.


	14. Reunited

Goren's determination to avoid medicating himself for the pain lasted until lunch. Distracted and nauseous, he gave up and swallowed two pills as he forced down a tomato sandwich and a glass of juice. He limped back to the couch and propped his throbbing knee on a pillow, absently changing channels as he waited for the pain to fade. Angry with himself for what he saw as his failure, it took a long time for him to calm and finally yield to the analgesic effects of the medicine. Unfortunately, its sedating properties caught up with him as well.

* * *

The room was dark when he woke. He could feel someone's presence in the room and he pushed himself onto his elbows. "Eames?" 

"No," came a familiar voice.

He frowned This wasn't happening. "Who...? This isn't funny."

"No, it's not. I need to talk to you."

"But...you..."

He trailed off, unwilling to put voice to the reality of her fate. So she did it for him. "I know I'm dead. But I left something important undone."

"Yes. Your life. I'm sorry, Marcy."

"No," she whispered. "_Your_ life. I could not bear the thought of losing you, or of you losing her. I have no regrets, and neither should you. I know what I did, and it was a fate that was meant to be, believe me. Bobby, you feel emotion very intensely, and I almost let your attraction for me overwhelm a deeper emotion that you try to hide. Life is too short, and nothing is worse than the feeling of something that should have been but wasn't. Look into your heart and be honest with yourself. You and I were not meant to be. You and her...that's a very different story."

He dropped back onto the couch, eyes searching the dark room, but he saw only shadows. "She's my partner," he protested weakly.

"Follow your heart," her voice whispered on a non-existent breeze.

He closed his eyes, then suddenly sat up. The blue flicker of the television lit the room. _Damn..._his dreams were getting weird. He combed his fingers through sweat-drenched hair, got up and limped into the kitchen. He looked at the time. Seven-thirty. He took another dose of pain medicine and returned to the couch.

* * *

"Are you sure you don't want me to come up with you, Alex?" 

She smiled affectionately at her father. "I'm positive, Dad." She leaned over and kissed his cheek. "Thank you for the ride."

"Say hello to Bobby for me."

She stepped out of the car. "I will."

Waving at him as he drove off, she turned and looked up at the building through the darkness. She didn't see a light in his apartment window, but sometimes he liked to sit in the dark, watching television and letting his mind wander. She went into the building and rode the elevator to his floor. Stepping from the elevator, she walked down the hall to his door and knocked. Her side was still sore, but she felt a lot better, especially now that she was no longer confined to a hospital room. She hadn't minded being in the hospital too much when Goren was there with her, but once he went home, she found herself bored and lonely. She missed him.

She was also worried about him. She had a feeling he was avoiding his real emotions. Logan told her he was pushing for details that she had asked him not to give, but he was going to find out. Back at work, he would have access to the file, and he would read it. No, not read--he would analyze it. She didn't have a lot of time to prepare him for what he would find and the conclusions he would arrive at, and she had no idea how she was going to do it.

She knocked again, but still received no reply. Placing her hand on the doorknob, she turned it and the door opened. Stepping into the cool, dim interior, she eased the door closed and gave her eyes a moment to adjust to the lighting change. The television was the only light, and the volume on the set was low. She saw the outline of his figure on the couch and she crossed to the corner, turning on the lamp between the couch and the bookcase that ran along the adjoining wall. He didn't stir. Her eyes searched the room, and she found his crutches on the floor between the couch and the coffee table.

Lightly, she sat down in the curve of his hip and slid the remote from where it rested on his chest beneath his hands. His breathing changed and he shifted his position, groaning softly. His tongue swept over his lips and he opened his eyes. He pressed his lips together and tried to focus on her. "You escaped," he murmured with a trace of an amused grin, not questioning her presence in his apartment.

"Yes," she replied. "In a high-speed wheelchair chase."

He laughed softly. She never failed to amuse him. He slowly sat up, running a hand through his hair. His head was still swimming from the last dose of medicine he'd taken. "What time is it?"

"Nine-thirty. Dad insisted on taking me to dinner before he dropped me off. Have you eaten?"

He shook his head. "I've been sleeping."

She started to get up. "I'll fix you something..."

Gently grasping her arm, he shook his head. "No. I'm glad you're feeling better, but you just got out of the hospital. I can take care of myself."

She looked at his hand where it rested on her arm. Her skin came alive, vibrating with a need she denied. He misread her intent as she stared at his hand, and he withdrew it. She swallowed disappointment, quickly hiding it from him. "You...you need to eat," she said quietly.

"I know. I'll fix something."

"Suppose I order a pizza," she suggested.

He thought for a moment, measuring how he was feeling against his desire for food, and he nodded. He could manage a slice or two of pizza. She gave him a smile of encouragement and pulled out her phone. Dialing a number from memory, she reflected sadly that they ate too much take out. After ordering a large pepperoni and mushroom pizza, she returned the phone to her pocket and studied her partner. She didn't like the unfocused look in his eyes, but she knew it was the price he paid for the relief of pain severe enough to drive him to take the medicine in the first place.

She met his eyes and held his gaze for a moment. With great difficulty, she looked away and she found herself unable to speak immediately. Getting up from the couch, she went into the kitchen for a drink of water to distract herself. She wondered about the odd uneasiness that had suddenly sprung up between them. She couldn't explain it, and she wasn't sure he had noticed it. Usually, nothing got past him, but he was distracted by pain and his mind was fogged by medication. There were no guarantees he would notice anything.

She returned to the couch with her glass of water and sat down, but she put a little distance between them. Again, she didn't think he noticed. But he did, and her sudden uneasiness disturbed him. He thought about asking her what was wrong, but changed his mind and sank back into the corner of the couch. Leaning his head back, he let out a slow breath. His mind returned to the dream he'd had. _Follow your heart..._ How was he supposed to do that if he didn't know where his heart lay?

Her voice broke into his thoughts. "What's on your mind?"

He shrugged. "You know how I get."

"Yes, I do. That's why I asked."

He sighed and remained quiet for a while. Finally he said, "We...failed, Eames."

She frowned in confusion. "Failed? Failed what?"

"We didn't do our job. You know, to serve and protect. We failed, and it cost a civilian her life. IAB is going to have field day with us."

"Is that what's bothering you? IAB?"

"Only as far as you are involved."

She was quiet, pensive. "What do you think we could have done differently? You definitely were not at your best. I told her to stay back, more than once. She didn't listen. Tell me how that comes back on us."

"It does, because she died, and that's our fault."

She knew she wasn't going to convince him differently, and she didn't have the energy at the moment to try. She decided to shift the subject a little. "She really liked you," she said quietly. "And I know you felt the same."

It was an observation but he read it as an accusation and the silence between them hung heavy. "Was I wrong?" he finally asked.

She shook her head. "No, because you were genuine. That's one thing I have always admired about you. Your heart is genuine."

His thoughts turned inward, to memories that would never again see the light of reality, because Marcy was gone. He hated the way the medicine tended to make his thoughts disjointed, and that frustrated him. He felt restless, unable to focus his thoughts and his emotions.

Eames watched his restlessness increase, wondering if she'd made a mistake. But which was the mistake: coming to see him or trying to reach him? Did she prefer it when he tried to deny his feelings? If she did, why was she trying to bring him in touch with them? Why? Because she cared about him. She knew that if he didn't come to terms with this, it was going to eat him alive. She could handle it, losing him to a woman of flesh and blood. She would not lose him to a ghost.

Quietly, he said, "Logan told me they're having trouble piecing together what happened in the park."

She nodded. "He told me the same. They're trying."

"I got the feeling there was something he wasn't telling me."

"What makes you say that?" she asked, not certain she quite managed the disinterested tone she was going for.

He was looking at his hands, but her tone made him turn to look at her. She saw suspicion flash in his eyes, and she cursed herself for being unable to hide from him, even when he was impaired. His brow furrowed. "What do you know?"

"Only what Logan told me," she answered, and it was the truth. As she studied his face, she grew uncertain. She had responded to his obvious affection for Marcy with jealousy. How was she going to handle his grief without alienating him? She knew that his playfulness in the hospital had been avoidance. After discussing the incident with Logan, he was faced with the reality of what had happened, and it wasn't so easy to ignore it any more. Now, he wanted to know exactly what had gone down, and she was afraid of how he would react if he ever got his answers.

He had no reservations about wanting to know what had happened. His partner had been injured and a civilian had died at the hands of a man they were in the process of taking into custody. That did not sit well with him. He had to know what happened, how the events had played out, how Marcy had died. He hated not having answers.

He continued to study Eames, and his eyes strayed to the hand she placed absently over her injured side. When she moved her hand, he reached toward her, and his fingers brushed over her side. He felt the bandage, and even through her shirt, he could tell her skin was warm to the touch. "Does it hurt?" he asked, his voice carrying a tone he rarely used with her.

She could not help her reaction to the tone in his voice. Deep, soft affection made his words tender, and she felt her pulse quicken. "A little, yes."

"Do you...remember...how it happened? I mean...when..."

"Yes, I do." She touched the healing knife wound on his side. "Do you remember what happened to you?"

He nodded. "Yes. Do you know when Marcy was injured?"

"No. I never saw that. It was after he took out both of us. That's all I know." She watched his expression as he stared in the general direction of her hip. "Bobby..." She struggled to keep her voice gentle. "You did not pull the trigger. You did not wield the knife." She rested her hand over his. "You do not own this injury, and you are not responsible for Marcy's murder. We did not fail anyone. We did our job. You cannot take ownership for every nut job we encounter." He stiffened and she moved her hand to rest on his arm. "Listen to me. Do not think I am saying this because I didn't like Marcy. I was getting to like her. I really was." She did not add the she was jealous of his attraction to her; that was not something he needed to know. "What happened was unfortunate, and I am very sorry Marcy died. I wish we could change that. But we can't, and I don't want to see this eat at you. Maybe you think it should have been you. I disagree, and you belittle her memory by thinking that way. She made a sacrifice, willing or not, and we cannot take that away from her. So honor her memory and her sacrifice by accepting what happened and moving on."

Before he could answer, someone knocked on the door. She touched his cheek gently, then got up and went to the door. He leaned his head back and stared at the ceiling. _Honor her memory... follow your heart..._

Two women he deeply cared for, one gone, one right here, alive and well. Eames. He watched her as she paid for the pizza and carried it to the coffee table. She went into the kitchen, returning with two cans of cola. He continued to watch her. Eames...deep, intelligent eyes the color of warm honey, hair that reminded him of spun gold, a loving heart that allowed her to bear her sister's son...the same heart that led her to stay with him, to put up with him and challenge him, to love him...

To love him...The more he considered it, the more certain he became that, on some level, she did love him. But how did he feel? She opened the pizza box and withdrew a piece of the pie, placing it on a paper towel and handing it to him. He accepted it, keeping his eyes on her. She met his gaze without hesitation. "Thank you," he murmured, turning his attention from her.

He was not referring just to the pizza, but he wasn't sure he was ready for her to know that. She answered, "You're welcome."

Once he finished eating, his restless anxiety faded some and the tension between them eased. He noticed when she started to doze where she was sitting, and he reached out to touch her cheek. She turned her head and looked at him. "Why don't you go into the bedroom?" he asked. "You can sleep in the bed."

"Thanks, but I am not going to chase you out of your bed."

Her choice of words caused a funny reaction deep in his stomach, but he ignored it, blaming the medication. "I don't mind. I sleep well on the couch."

She smiled. "So do I. Your couch is more comfortable than my bed." She reached toward him and closed her hand over his, giving it an affectionate squeeze. "Go to bed, Bobby. I'll be here in the morning."

He could not deny his fatigue. He resented the loss of his energy and stamina, and Eames seemed to understand that. She lifted the crutches from the floor and held them for him. He took them and stood, bracing the crutches beneath his arms. "Thank you, Eames. You, uh, you know where the extra blankets and pillows are."

"Yes, I do. I'll be fine."

He nodded and crossed the room. When he got to the hallway, he turned and looked at her. He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it. Finally, he said, "I'm...I'm glad you're here."

She sensed that wasn't what he wanted to say, but she accepted it as though it was. "So am I. Good night, Bobby."

She watched him make his way down the hall. The pain was sapping his energy and she hated to see that. As much as his endless supply of energy drove her up a wall, when it was diminished in any way, it troubled her deeply. She waited for the door to close before she pulled out her phone and called Logan. She had not had a chance to talk to him and she wanted to know how Goren had been the night before when they talked.

He answered with: _Now, suppose I was asleep, Eames._

She rolled her eyes. "I would have woken you up, but you weren't, so stop bitching."

He laughed quietly. _How's the big guy?_

"Probably about the same. He's decided to try to get by without his pain medicine, but it's not working and that annoys him." She sighed. "Tell me how it went last night when you talked to him."

He didn't have to ask what she meant. _He wants to know the details._

"He can't know the details."

_Sweetheart, I don't have what he wants to know, and I'm not sure it'll ever come out. Half the witnesses we talked to didn't know what they were seeing, until they saw the blood. Then they shut down. Blood does that to people. But Bobby's smart. He's going to piece it together from the bits of the puzzle we do have. He will have access to the full file when he goes back to work. The truth of the matter is that she sacrificed herself to save the two of you. That's going to go against his grain._

"He already knows it. It's something he has to come to terms with, and he's struggling."

_There's one thing strongly in his favor._

"What's that?"

_He has you. I think he'll be all right, Alex._

"He has me..." She smiled sadly. "Thanks, Mike."

_If you need me, you know where I am. Try to get some rest. You're still healing, too._

The rumors circulating the department about Logan, like the ones about Goren, were not kind, but Eames found that, like most gossip, they had little basis in fact. Maybe Logan was a hothead, but he was also a loyal, caring friend, if one chose to draw him in that close. "Good night, Mike."

_Good night, Alex._

She closed the phone and set it on the coffee table. Again, she looked down the hall at the closed door of his bedroom. Retrieving a pillow and blanket from the hall closet where he kept them, she made herself comfortable on the couch and went to sleep.


	15. Echoes of Reality

After a restless night plagued by dreams of the shooting, Eames woke to the smell of bacon cooking. She got up and went down the hall to the bathroom. Returning to the living room, she crossed over to the kitchen, where Goren stood at the stove. His crutches rested against the counter beside the refrigerator. He looked at her, and his brow furrowed with concern. "You look...tired."

"Don't be diplomatic. I look like crap."

He shook his head. "You never look like crap, Eames, but you do look, um...troubled."

She shook her head. "I just didn't sleep well, that's all."

"You should have slept in the bed."

"That's not it. Your couch is very comfortable. I still hurt enough to disturb my sleep."

It was mostly the truth. She wasn't willing to bother him with her nightmares; he had enough of his own. After he dished out the eggs and bacon, she took the plates to the table, returning for the coffee. They ate in companionable silence, both lost in their own thoughts.

When they were done eating, she carried their dishes into the kitchen and started to clean up, but he stopped her. "Don't baby me, Eames. I can clean up my own mess. Right now, I want you to go into the bedroom and get some sleep."

"Bobby..."

"Don't argue with me. If you don't rest, you won't heal. Now go on."

"I'm fine..."

"You don't let me get away with that," he interrupted, steering her out of the kitchen.

"Your crutches..."

"If you lay down in the bedroom, I'll use the crutches."

"That's bribery."

"Yes, it is."

"Dammit, Bobby. You're not playing fair."

"I don't care. Go on."

She glared at him, but he refused to give in. She knew he would not yield when he felt strongly about something, and finally, she gave in. If it got him to use the crutches, it was worth it. "Promise you'll use the crutches?"

"You have my word."

She sighed heavily. "Fine. But if you don't, I'll beat you with them."

He smiled, and she couldn't help responding with a smile of her own. He watched her leave the kitchen, remaining still until he heard the bedroom door close.

* * *

When she woke, she swore she heard voices coming from the living room. She got up, went into the bathroom, and then walked down the hall to the living room. Logan was sitting on the couch, talking to Goren who was in the kitchen. As soon as she came into the room, he switched off the television and grinned at her. "Hey, Sleeping Beauty."

"What are you up to, Logan?"

He feigned an innocent look. "Me? I just came by for lunch."

Goren came limping out of the kitchen with a plate and a cup of coffee, stopping when she crossed her arms and looked at him. He gave her a smile. "Sleep well?"

"Yes, I did. I thought we had a deal. Why aren't you using those crutches?"

"I asked the same question," Logan insisted.

Goren handed him the plate and cup. "Shut up and eat, Mike. Don't help."

Logan took his lunch with a chuckle as Goren defended himself. "I was, but I can't carry anything and use the crutches."

"So you get Logan to do the carrying."

"I offered," Logan said, unwilling to risk incurring her anger.

Goren glared at him. "Just eat, will you?"

Eames stepped up to him, pressing her hands into his chest. "You promised," she said softly.

"All right," he conceded. "They're right here. I swear, I was using them all morning."

Logan took a bite of his sandwich and took another shot at helping Goren by distracting Eames. "That shooter from the park woke up this morning. You guys won't believe the shit he's spouting."

Eames motioned for him to wait as Goren went back into the kitchen. She watched him fix another sandwich, which she took before he could take another step. She grabbed his lunch, too, and carried both sandwiches to the living room. Returning to the kitchen, she prepared two more cups as Goren used the crutches to hobble into the living room and sit down. She brought the coffee into the room and sat beside Logan on the couch. "All right, Mike, what's he saying?" she asked.

"He's crying self-defense. You know, the old police brutality defense. He was a little taken aback when we told him the one who hit him with the rock was neither armed nor was she a cop, and he turned white when he found out he is going to stand trial for her murder." He looked at Goren. "Try explaining that one. He goes on a shooting spree, then acts surprised when we charge him with murder. Then there's IAB, snooping around and trying to cause trouble. They've already read the file from cover to cover and they'll probably be trying to talk to you guys at home, but I don't think Ross will let them. He's been watching them like a hawk and just before I left he was going off on them about letting you two recover in peace. He told them he'll bring you in to talk when you've had a chance to heal some. So if they come knocking on your door, call Ross. He'll send Wheeler and me over to stomp on them. I'll do anything you want if you call him anyway. I'm dying to put these two in their place. They're looking for any excuse to pin this on you. They claim it's fishy that Marcy showed up on the scene with you."

Eames gave an annoyed huff. "We tried to leave her out of it."

Logan nodded. "Several witnesses said they heard you telling her to stay put. But you know IAB. They don't want to clear you in this shooting. The more it looks like they'll have to, the more unhappy they get." He paused for a moment, suddenly uncomfortable. He looked at Goren. "Uh, they're digging for any evidence that your relationship with her was more than professional, so if you slept with her, I hope you were careful and kept it buried deep."

Irritated, Goren snapped, "I didn't sleep with her. And even if I did, there's nothing wrong with it. My private life is my own damn business and I resent anyone poking around in it."

"That's not how IAB sees it," Logan ventured. "I'm telling you, buddy, they're trying to pin this on you. They're pissed that a civilian consultant showed up at the scene of a shooting with two NYPD officers and was killed. They like Eames, so guess who's getting the heat."

"Fine," Goren growled. "Let them try. I didn't do anything wrong and neither did Eames."

Logan's voice was quiet. "Who did she show up at the scene with?"

"She was with me," Goren answered, and Eames knew he was in protective mode.

"Bobby..." she began, knowing any heat that was turned on her would be quickly dissipated.

He waved a hand irritably. "No, Eames. She was with me. Let IAB come after me."

"You are not bulletproof," she said.

He met her eyes. "Neither are you...and you have a hell of a lot more to lose than I do. They want to focus on me; let them. I didn't do anything wrong. Not this time."

Logan interjected. "When has that ever mattered to IAB or stopped them from going after an innocent cop because they want answers?"

Goren raised his chin defiantly. "I'm not afraid of IAB."

Eames didn't back down. "I know you're not. But we're partners..."

"Don't, Eames," he warned quietly. "I'll stand alone on this. It was my decision to let her drive me to the park. She was there because of me. If it's going to come down on anyone, it will come down on me."

She pointed a finger at him. "Marcy was a big girl, Goren. She made her own decisions." She was not willing to let him take the fall for something that was not his fault. "This is on her, damn it, not you."

Logan stepped in again to defuse the tension between the partners. "That's what the evidence is pointing to as well." He looked at Goren. "Don't let your guilt lead you to do something stupid, Bobby. You bear no blame in this. So, she showed up with you. That is entirely beside the point. There were lots of people in the park that day. It was lunchtime on a nice day. It wasn't her fault, or yours, that some nut chose to hold target practice from Belvedere Castle that afternoon. But it _was_ her fault that she didn't listen to your partner and stay out of the way. I'm sorry to say it, but that makes it _her_ fault that she was killed."

_...And you weren't_, Eames added in her head, watching the parade of emotions that crossed her partner's face. Aloud, however, she only said, "He's right, Bobby."

As Logan finished his sandwich, Goren's agitation got the better of him. Angrily, he got to his feet and began pacing, casting a brief glance at his partner that dared her to challenge him. She let his challenge go unanswered for the moment. Logan set aside his empty plate and said, "I need to get back. After IAB talks to you guys, I know they're going to reach the same conclusion we did..." He pointed at Goren. "If you don't sabotage yourself. But it's your partnership and your job." He shrugged. "And the memory of a woman you really liked."

Goren's eyes narrowed. "That was low, Logan."

"Maybe so, but deny it if it's not true."

Goren glared at him, but he turned away without responding. Logan looked at Eames, who gave him a brief smile. He shrugged. He'd tried. "I gotta get back to work. Later, guys."

"Thanks, Mike," Eames said, but Goren said nothing.

Logan knew he was annoyed, but Eames would take care of him. He left the apartment and Eames studied her partner. "Don't punish yourself, Bobby."

"She..."

He trailed off, but even in that one word, Eames heard his grief. In the silence that filled the room, she heard Marcy's voice as clearly as if she were standing there with them. _You do know that he loves you...I wonder if you realize just how much he cares...You will never regret loving him..._

She crossed the room without saying another word, placing her hand flat against his back. He turned his head toward her and looked at her, wondering if she was still angry, surprised to see she was not. Even more surprising, though, was what he did see in her eyes. The desire he had seen in the hospital, the love she had not meant for him to see then, was now clear in her eyes. There was no mistake this time, no way to misinterpret, no reason to doubt. _...nothing is worse than the feeling of something that should have been but wasn't._

Eames was tired of fighting, tired of hiding. It was time to be honest with him, and she prayed he could be honest with her in return. She was taking a chance, hoping he felt the same way. _It's impossible not to respond to his intensity...He loves you..._

He raised his hand to touch her chin, applying enough pressure to raise her face toward his as he brought his mouth closer to hers. She closed her eyes in anticipation half a second before he kissed her.


	16. Interrogation

Goren sat at the table in the conference room, glaring at the two officers who sat across from him. They'd already talked with Eames, and when she came out of the room, she'd looked angry and upset, but he had not had a chance to talk with her. The last he saw of her, she was talking to Ross and Logan, gesticulating angrily. Her shoulders shook with emotion, and that upset him, that these two men would do that to her. He knew the tactics; he'd used them himself. Divide and conquer. But that only worked when there was some fundamental weakness to exploit.

Perhaps that approach would have worked a few months ago, when his partnership with Eames was on rocky ground. But things had stabilized between them. Whether she had intended to or not, Marcy had brought them closer together. Initially, she had caused some tension between them, but somehow, she had managed to smooth it over. He had given thought to that late the night before, while Eames slept beside him in his bed. It had started in the hospital, after the shooting. Now, for the first time in many months, they were on solid ground with one another. The IAB detectives could use any tactic they chose; it wasn't going to work.

He leaned back in his chair, watching the two men with intense eyes. He betrayed no emotion; he knew how to play the game. The lead detective sat back as well and let his junior partner take the lead. "Detective Goren, I am James Trelaine, and this is my partner Kevin Shaw. We work with Internal Affairs, and we are investigating the death of Marcy Chambers. You are aware of the circumstances surrounding her death?"

"I am."

"You understand that neither you nor Detective Eames stand accused of the murder, don't you?"

"I understand that."

Trelaine opened a file in front of him. "We are investigating the manner in which you contributed to the events that led to this investigation. Did you witness her murder?"

"No. I'd been grazed in the head by a bullet and was unconscious at the time she was killed."

"Detective, why was Miss Chambers in the park that afternoon?"

"She was there with me."

Shaw spoke up for the first time. "That's odd. Detective Eames said she was with her."

Goren's eyes flashed, but he held his temper. "No. She didn't."

Trelaine folded his hands on the table. "You seem certain."

"I am certain. Miss Chambers was there with me. Eames would not say anything different because that's the truth."

"All right," Shaw said with a nod. "We'll play it your way for the moment. Let's say Miss Chambers was there with you. Why?"

"That is none of your business. Being in a public place with someone is not a crime. We had no way of knowing there was going to be a shooting there. We were meeting Eames."

Shaw consulted the top paper of a small stack in the file in front of him. "You called Detective Eames at twelve-thirteen that afternoon."

"Yes, I did."

"Right after that, you called Detective Logan."

"I did."

Shaw studied him for a moment before he asked, "Why?"

Goren's demeanor betrayed nothing. "Why do you call people, detective? I wanted to talk to him. Detective Logan and I are friends."

Shaw consulted his notes. "Detective Eames went to the park after speaking with a suspect. That suspect told us he mentioned the park to her. Twenty minutes later, you showed up with Miss Chambers, just before the shooting began."

Goren remained unperturbed. "I'm sure you verified that with Detective Eames. The suspect's testimony was flaky at best, and he had no prior contact with the shooting suspect. Eames went to the park for lunch."

"Why were you at home that day, detective, and not on the job?"

"I was still on sick leave, following an injury I received while rescuing Teddy Yarborough. I was still taking medication that prevented me from working."

Shaw nodded toward the table, indicating Goren's knee. "Your knee...the injury was exacerbated in the park. Weren't you told to stay off it as much as possible?"

"I was, and I did."

"But in the park..."

"In the park," he interrupted. "It wasn't possible."

Trelaine mimicked Goren's calm demeanor. "Miss Chambers was there with you. How did she come to be there with you, if she was working the Richards murder with Eames?"

"She stopped by my apartment to bring me lunch."

Trelaine couldn't keep a note of victory from his voice. "I thought you were meeting Eames in the park for lunch."

Goren folded his hands on the table. He knew that Ross was watching, and he suspected the captain was not alone in the observation room. His gut told him Kenny Moran, the chief of detectives, was with him, waiting for him to trip himself up, to say something that contradicted Eames' testimony, something that would hang him. But he knew better. He had told Eames to be honest. Nothing she said in honesty would hurt him. As long as she had done that, he would be fine. She had promised him she would do nothing to try to cover for him; there was no need for that. He trusted that she kept her word, so he could be honest as well. However this turned out, Eames would be fine, and that was what mattered to him. "I didn't say that," he answered. "I said we were meeting her there, and that _she_ went to the park for lunch. I never said we were meeting her for lunch, because we weren't."

The two detectives looked at one another before changing direction with their questioning. "What was your relationship with Miss Chambers?" Trelaine asked.

Goren did not hesitate; he'd been expecting that line of questioning. "What bearing does that have on your investigation?"

Shaw answered, "That is for us to determine, and we are asking the questions, Detective Goren. Please answer my partner's question."

Goren looked from one detective to the other before he finally replied, "We had become friends."

Shaw pounced on that statement. "And lovers?"

Logan had been right. He worked hard to keep his anger in check, giving no outward sign that he was upset. He raised a hand, extending his index finger toward the two detectives. "My private life has no bearing on what happened to Marcy Chambers."

"Are you refusing to answer the question, detective?"

"I am, because it's not anyone's business what my relationship with her was. That was between her and me, and it's going to stay that way."

Shaw pointed a finger at him, annoyed. "This brings your judgment into question, Detective Goren."

"Why? I was no longer part of the active investigation into the Richards murder. I have no professional association to Miss Chambers. We were both adults, neither attached to another person. If I chose to enter into any kind of personal relationship with her, how does that bring my judgment into question?"

The two investigating detectives looked at each other, unwilling to concede the point to him but unable to come up with any kind of valid argument to refute his argument. Tremaine once again changed the direction of the questioning, increasingly frustrated that Goren was not in any way nervous to be questioned by them. "Tell us what happened when you first heard the shots, detective."

"Eames and I ran toward the castle."

"Where was Miss Chambers?"

"I didn't take notice. I assume she ran after us."

"Did you hear your partner tell Miss Chambers to stay back?"

"No, but I have no doubt she did. I was engaged with the suspect at the time. I had no idea Marcy was even there."

Shaw spoke up. "She arrived at the park with you, detective. You heard shots, and you and Eames abandoned her to run toward the site of the shooting, even though you were not vested or armed?"

"Eames was on duty, so she was armed, and she gave me her back-up piece. But no, we were not vested. I don't know about you, detective, but I don't wear my vest unless I have to. I did not anticipate needing a bulletproof vest to go to Central Park."

Shaw's eyes narrowed dangerously. "This is a serious investigation, detective. A civilian is dead."

Goren became very still, and his jaw tightened. "Do you think I don't know that? Do you think I bear no personal responsibility for what happened to her?"

Shaw moved in for the kill. "What personal responsibility do you bear, detective?"

Goren was not stupid. He knew exactly what he'd said. He met Shaw's eyes, defiant. "Just what I said, Detective Shaw. She was my friend, and she was there because of me."

Shaw pressed the issue. "Would you say she died because of you?"

The door slammed open, and the three detectives turned . Eames stood in the doorway, eyes blazing. At that moment, Goren knew she'd been watching the interview. Ross came up behind her. "Eames..."

She stepped into the room, approaching Shaw. "Don't you dare do that to him," she growled.

"Eames..." Goren began.

She waved a hand at him. "No. This charade has gone far enough. You two know that we played no role in Miss Chambers' murder. You want to blame someone? Blame the man who killed her. Do not lay any more guilt on my partner than he already carries. Marcy Chambers clobbered the suspect with a rock after he delivered a lethal injury to her. If she hadn't had the courage to do what she did, my partner and I would both be dead. We know that. We have to live with that. Isn't that enough? Leave him alone."

Goren had gotten up from his chair and walked toward her, frowning. "Eames, go with Ross. Let me finish up here and then...we'll talk."

He noted the subtle tremor that assaulted her muscles as she struggled to maintain control, and she stood her ground until Ross closed his hand over her arm, giving it a gentle tug. "Come on, Eames."

Goren watched her leave before turning back to the two Internal Affairs detectives. Their attention was focused on him. Shaw was frowning as he said, "Do you want to explain that, Detective Goren?"

"My partner...is protective."

Tremaine said, "Just like you protect her. It's what partners do. We get that. So who's job was it to protect Miss Chambers?"

"Mine. I...I didn't mean to get shot, gentlemen, and I certainly never meant for any harm to come to Marcy." A dark look crossed his face. "If I could trade places with her, I would. Are we done here?"

Tremaine and Shaw looked at one another. Tremaine nodded. "We're done, detective."

Goren wasted no time leaving the room to find his angry, distraught partner. Shaw and Trelaine gathered their files and followed him, interested to see how the partners interacted with each other. They were not done yet.


	17. A Warning and A Choice

Goren left the conference room, angry. He scanned the squad room, searching for his partner, finally locating her in Ross' office. Struggling not to limp, he made his way toward the office, aware of the scrutiny of the other detectives as well as of the two officers from Internal Affairs. But he was used to being scrutinized. He stopped in the captain's doorway.

Ross was seated beside Eames, talking to her. He looked up when Goren appeared in the doorway. "Come in, detective."

The captain got up, offering his seat to Goren. "I'm...going to get a cup of coffee."

Goren didn't miss the full cup of coffee sitting on the captain's desk. Ross just nodded at him and left the office. He turned his attention to his partner. "Eames?"

She waved a hand at him. "I know, I know. I lost my cool."

"Why? I had it under control."

She took a deep breath. "I had enough, Bobby. I couldn't stand listening to them trying to heap more guilt on you."

He rested his arms on his knees and clasped his hands together. "Eames, I do bear a personal responsibility for what happened. Shaw pointing that out doesn't change it. I know what role I played in what happened."

_No, you don't,_ she thought. "Marcy knew what she was doing," she said. "She was very fond of you, and she did what she felt she had to do."

His brow furrowed into a frown and he looked at her. "What is that supposed to mean?"

She shook her head. "It means that nothing we did or did not do could have changed the way things worked out."

While the partners talked in the privacy of the captain's office, Shaw and Trelaine stood nearby, watching them. Mike Logan had had enough experience dealing with Internal Affairs to know that these two men were going to read anything they could into every movement the partners made. He approached the two men. "Goren and Eames," he said quietly. "They're a great team."

Shaw and Trelaine looked at him. "Detective Logan," Shaw said by way of greeting. "What do you know about Goren and Eames?"

"As much as anyone does," Logan answered cautiously.

"Their relationship?"

"They work very well together. They balance each other."

"And their personal relationship?"

Logan swallowed a surge of anger. "Nothing there for you two to be snooping around. They respect each other, and I have never seen anything more than that."

"Detective Goren said you are friends, so do we correctly assume you have observed them outside the duty environment?"

Logan's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "I am not going to be your mule. And there's nothing to see. They've been partners for a long time, and whatever they do, it works. Leave them alone."

Ross saw Logan talking to the two detectives and it made him uneasy. He approached them as Logan walked away. "Is your investigation complete, gentlemen?"

Shaw drew his eyes from the detectives who sat in the captain's office and answered, "Almost. Why did you leave them alone in your office, Captain Ross?"

"So they could talk. What are you looking for, detectives? I thought you were investigating Miss Chambers' death."

"Not all our questions were answered to our satisfaction, Captain Ross. Goren was uncooperative with regard to his personal relationship with Miss Chambers."

"He was within his rights, Detective Shaw. His personal relationship with Miss Chambers had no bearing on her death."

"What do you know about his relationship with Eames?"

The question caught the captain off-guard, and he was at the end of his patience. "With Eames? Goren and Eames are partners, Detective Shaw. That's all you need to concern yourselves with. You have all the information you need from my detectives, gentlemen. Leave them alone."

Trelaine nudged his partner's arm. "Let's go, Kev. We have what we need for our report."

Ross straightened his shoulders. "Am I correct in assuming your report will concur with mine?"

Shaw glared at Ross. The captain had shadowed their every movement. He knew what they had found. "They're cleared, Captain. You'll have our report by the end of next week."

Ross watched them leave, then he looked toward his office, where Goren and Eames were still deep in conversation. "Logan," he called, waiting until the detective was at his side. "You know Goren, and this will be received better from you than from me. Go in there and tell them to watch their steps. IAB thinks they see red flags. Let them see that they're wrong." Logan looked at the captain for a moment, suspicion on his face. Ross sighed heavily. He should have known Logan would be protective. "I don't know, and I don't want to know. Whatever is between them is just that, between them. As long as it's left out of my squad room and beyond prying eyes, I don't care what they do."

The suspicion did not leave Logan's face. "Do you think...?"

"I try not to, detective. It gives me a headache. Go tell them."

Logan walked off, careful to keep his gait casual. He poked his head into the captain's office. "Knock, knock."

Goren and Eames looked up at him. "What is it, Logan?" Eames asked, annoyed.

"Warning from the captain. IAB is going to be watching you guys, so if you're playing house, play smart. Keep it out of the public eye. This is one cookie jar you don't want to get caught sticking your hand in."

"What does the captain think?" Goren asked.

"He doesn't. Let's not plant those images in his head. Just behave."

Goren looked out into the squad room, where Ross was talking to another team of detectives. "Where did Shaw and Trelaine go?"

"They talked to Ross and then went to crawl back under their rock."

"Thanks, Mike."

Logan grinned at them. "I do what I can. Let me know when you're ready, Bobby, and I'll drive you home."

Eames looked at her partner once Logan was gone. He stood. "I'm going home, Eames. I have to put my knee up, or Dr. Harris is going to have my head."

"You should have brought your crutches."

He shook his head, watching Ross. "They're wolves, moving in for the kill. You never bare your throat to them. They'll exploit any weakness."

He looked back toward her, meeting her eyes. They looked at each other for a long moment, and no words were necessary. Finally, Eames said, "I'll pick you up around four. We'll have dinner at my parents'."

He hesitated, but finally nodded and left the office, motioning to Logan when he looked his way. Logan nodded and spoke to Wheeler. Ross approached Goren. "You did well, detective."

"Thank you, sir."

"I know you didn't do anything wrong, Goren, and so do they now. They're going to clear you and your partner. But watch your step. They're still watching you."

"I'm used to that." He tipped his head and studied Ross' face. Ross did not particularly like being under Goren's scrutiny. "Captain, correct me if I'm wrong, but what I do in my own time, and who I do it with, is no one's business."

Ross nodded. "You'll get no argument from me. But why make things unnecessarily difficult for yourself...or her?"

Goren stiffened and he met Ross' eyes. Without saying anything more, he moved past Ross and limped to the elevator where Logan met him. They got into the elevator and the doors closed.

Ross returned to his office, where he met Eames in the doorway. "I'll tell you what I told your partner, Eames. Be careful."

"You say that like we're doing something wrong, captain."

"Are you?" When she opened her mouth to reply, he changed his mind. "No. Don't answer that. Just beware: IAB is watching your partner."

"That's nothing new, sir."

He watched her walk to her desk, grab her coat and continue toward the elevators. Neither Goren nor Eames were back on duty yet, and he'd hated bringing them in for this, but it had to be done, sooner, rather than later. He was glad it was over, then he wondered if it really was.

* * *

Goren answered the door just after four. He stood in the doorway, looking down at his partner. Slowly, he shook his head. "I...I can't, Eames. I can't do this to you." His eyes were bloodshot and his voice was strained. "I've damaged your career enough. I won't let you fall the rest of the way with me...or for me. It's not worth it."

Eames had been expecting that from him, and she was prepared. "Can I come in?"

"That's...not a good idea."

"I don't care. Can I come in?"

He was on the verge of saying no, but at the last moment, he closed his mouth and stepped back. She stepped into the apartment and laid out her argument. "Did Marcy mean anything to you?"

"Don't bring her into this, Eames. This has nothing to do with her."

"This has everything to do with her, Bobby. You said you didn't sleep with her."

"I didn't."

"Lack of opportunity?"

He frowned, his anger rising quickly. "That's not any of your business."

She moved closer, and he closed his eyes. "None of my business," she repeated. "So whatever goes on behind these walls is...whose business? IAB's? Ross'?"

He shook his head, slowly opening his eyes. "No."

"Are you going to let those bastards dictate what your heart can feel?" she whispered.

_Follow your heart..._ He struggled with his desire for her and his desire to protect her, and both boiled down to the same thing: he loved her. But he couldn't have it both ways. He had to make a choice, and it was the most difficult choice he'd had to make in many years. For him, it came down to a decision between love or torture. But he had to do what was best for her, and that was ultimately what he did. He chose what was best for Eames.


	18. Challenge

_Are you going to let those bastards dictate what your heart can feel?_

He forced himself to look away from her. He could not look into her face and do what he needed to do. "Not what I feel," he said quietly. "No one tells me what to feel, but they can affect what I do about it. Eames, your association with me..."

"Has been the most challenging, most interesting time of my life, Goren. Why do you think that whatever my aspirations might be, they could possibly be more important to me than you are?"

He stepped away from her and began to pace, thinking. She didn't quite know what to make of it. Sometimes, it was a good thing when he thought; sometimes it was not. Finally, she intruded on his introspection. "Do I have a say in this, Goren?"

He wanted to tell her no, to send her away and let her know there could be nothing between them because if there was, it would ultimately destroy her. But he couldn't quite bring himself to tell her that. "Why are you here?"

"Because sometimes it's not the best thing for you to be alone."

He laughed bitterly. "I am very used to being alone, Eames."

"I know you are. Maybe it's time for that to change."

It was time to take a hard line with her, to push her away for her own good. "I don't want to change it," he insisted, his tone firm and unfriendly.

Eames was not stupid, and she knew exactly what he was doing. He had done it before, and he thought he was protecting her. The ball was now in her court. Was she going to let him get away with it? What purpose could it possibly serve to avoid one another? More than that, did either one of them deserve the pain such a separation would inflict on them both? Along the same lines, why did he think it was his duty to decide what was best for them? She didn't miss the fact that he had not answered her question, which told her that he did not think she had a say in what path their personal relationship took, and that made her angry. Now she was faced with a real decision. She could approach this in one of two ways. If she dealt with him in anger, he would get defensive and shut down. She had no doubt of that. Despite his pig-headed chivalry, she had no desire to see that. There was one other hand she could play, one that would put his feelings to the test. She wondered just how much resolve he had, and she was going to find out.

"Are you sure about that?" she asked.

"Yes."

He was convincing, but she didn't believe him. He had a lifetime of practice pushing people away, and he was very good at it. "Suppose I refuse to leave?"

She walked over to the window on the far side of the room and looked out into the neighborhood street below. She hid a smile. He had no idea how to respond to that. She'd never challenged him this way before. After a few false starts, he said, "It-it's my apartment."

She shrugged. "And? I like it here, and I happen to like the company."

"C-company? What company?"

He was off balance now, and she decided to turn up the pressure. Turning from the window, she approached him. Reaching out, she smoothed her hand over his shirt. "I do have a say in this, Goren," she said softly, challenging him, but not in a confrontational way. He responded to gentle coaxing, and she knew he did.

What was she doing? This was a side of her he had not seen before, and he had mixed feelings about it. Her hand continued to smooth his shirt, and he could feel his resolve beginning to crumble. He struggled to pull it back together. "Eames..."

She moved a half step closer and waged a full scale war on his senses: the scent of jasmine and strawberry, an odd combination that he recognized as being all hers, the sensation of her hand on his chest, their skin separated only by the fabric of his shirt, the combination of challenge and desire bright in her eyes, the sudden increase in her breathing rate...and her pulse rate, he imagined. Did she have any idea at all what she was doing?

She saw confusion in his eyes, and she knew he was struggling. That alone would leave him floundering. Bobby hated anything he could not explain and she knew he couldn't explain this. But this was no longer about him. It was about them. She slid her other hand onto his side, impressed when he didn't move away from her. She wondered if he'd lost the ability to move until he blinked his eyes and moistened his lips.

She closed the last of the distance between them, bringing her hand from his chest onto his side. He looked down into her face, still uncertain. She remained right where she was, looking up into his face and daring him to chase her away now. She slid her hands down to his waist and hooked her thumbs on his belt...and she waited. If he was stubborn enough to tell her to leave now, then she would. And there would be no going back. He would end any chance he would ever have of being in this situation again. She was not going to give him any more chances, and she hoped he realized this. Sending her away now would destroy their personal relationship and possibly end their friendship. She waited. It was all up to him.

He didn't move, didn't think, didn't breathe. After a moment, he finally drew in a slow breath, hoping it would kickstart his brain, but it didn't. He looked into her face and he saw the same desire he'd seen in the hospital, the same love he'd seen the other day when he'd kissed her and let her sleep in his bed. Let her, hell. Who was he kidding? He brought his hands up slowly with the intention of drawing her out of his personal space, but that was not what happened. Before he could process what was happening, one hand buried itself in her soft hair while the other splayed gently over her back, pulling her against him. He couldn't take any more. Dipping his head, he claimed her mouth with his, unable to suppress a soft groan. Her hands slid from his waist up his back and every bit of sense he'd struggled to hold onto slipped away from him. His intentions had been right. His motivation had been sincere. His downfall was complete.


	19. Don't Make Me Haunt You

**A/N: Well, I wrapped this all up nicely before I realized I'd forgotten Cora's killer. So in a nod to the world's most stupid criminals, I gave Goren and Eames a break while they recover. **

* * *

It was pure, dumb luck that led them to the man who murdered Cora Richards. A routine traffic stop in Montauk led to a suspicion of drugs which gave probable cause for a search. When the search turned up Cora's wallet, the driver and his friend were arrested. A home search found a necklace that Vicky Yarborough identified as Cora's, one they had given her for Christmas. She'd been wearing it the day she was killed.

Faced with the evidence, the driver of the car sang like a songbird, fingering Cora's ex-husband, who had hired him to kill her so he would no longer have to pay alimony. He had taken the necklace as part of his fee for services rendered, and it was instrumental in his conviction.

Since Goren and Eames were still recovering from the shooting, as a favor to them, Logan and Wheeler finished up their paperwork on the case.

* * *

The bedroom was dark, except for the glow of the streetlight as it illuminated his outline near the window where he sat. He watched the vacant street, casting a glance into the depths of the room when he heard her move, but she didn't get up. He was glad. At the moment he simply wanted to be alone with his thoughts. What had he done? When had he allowed his desire control over his better sense?

A breeze fluttered the curtains, caressing his bare chest which had been coated with sweat a mere hour and a half ago. He looked back into the dark room toward the bed. Something moved in the shadows near the closet and he tensed, until a soft voice spoke, for his ears only. "Why is this such a dilemma for you?"

"Aren't you dead?" he snapped irritably.

Eames stirred in her sleep, and Marcy said, "Keep it down unless youw ant to involve Alex in this little talk, too."

"I have involved Alex in quite enough, thank you."

"Does it matter to you at all that she loves you...or that you love her?"

He turned back toward the window. "I have...always loved her. I am used to that. But this...I don't know. It's too much of an investment. What happens to me when I finally do chase her off?"

"Now why would you do something stupid like that?"

"I wouldn't, intentionally. It's just something that always happens. I've learned not to invest myself too deeply into a relationship." He looked at her. "It's easier for me that way, when she leaves."

"Did it ever occur to you that maybe that was why they left, because you weren't really part of the equation?" His silence gave her the answer she expected. He knew. "Bobby, don't repeat the mistakes of your past with her. This is probably the best chance you have to actually be happy for the first time, and for the rest of your life." The ghost of her image wagged a finger at him. "She _loves_ you, and if you blow this, so help me I'll haunt you for the rest of your life. Invest yourself for once. Let her know that you love her, too. Don't just give her what she needs or what you think she wants. Let her give back to you. It's all right to let her love you, too."

He looked at the floor. "I'm not twenty. I have to unlearn a lifetime of conditioning. That won't be easy to do."

"No one said love was easy, but it is worth it. Talk to her. I'm sure she'll understand, and she'll be patient. She does understand you."

"I know she does, and that scares me."

She smiled. "Everything about her scares you and intrigues you and enchants you..."

"Yeah, yeah...I get it."

"I sure hope so. Now stop second-guessing yourself and go to bed. Remember, Bobby, as badly as you want her, she wants you, too, or she would not be where she is now. Please tell me you won't be an idiot, so I don't have to keep an eye on you."

Goren got up from the chair by the window and moved deeper into the darkness of the room. His eyes adjusted to the dark and he watched the sleeping form of the woman he loved. "Let her love you," Marcy's voice sounded beside his ear.

He made up his mind and gently grasped the blanket in his fist. He glanced toward the opposite side of the room where he could only barely make out Marcy's fading form. "Rest in peace, Marcy."

"Now, I will," she responded as she became one with the shadows in the corner and was gone.

Sliding under the blanket, he reached out and laid gentle hands on the woman in his bed. She stirred, opening her eyes and offering a sleepy smile. "What is it?" she wondered, smoothing her hand over his hair and down along the side of his face.

He needed no words to convey his desire, and she did not hesitate to respond to him. Cushioned by her love, he was no longer afraid to fall, knowing she would be there to catch him as surely as she knew he would be there for her. And he vowed to try never to let her down.

_fin._


End file.
